


brave.

by stylesangel



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Death, F/F, Lesbian, Trauma, Zombie Apocalypse, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29681211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesangel/pseuds/stylesangel
Summary: Bravery isn't real. No one stands in the eyes of fear and is truly unwavered. Bravery is simply an act we put on to make the ones we love feel safe. Bravery is the word we use for stupidity, when the cause of that stupidity is love. Bravery is because of love. With love you are brave, you are strong, and you are alive. And without it, you are nothing.Violet Rhee doesn't have much after the geeks have taken over the entirety of the world, but she has family, blood or not, and that might just be enough.





	1. miracle.

It would be easier to get through this life without feeling. I sometimes wish I was one of the dead ones, wandering aimlessly, awaiting nothing but my next meal. I wonder if living like this is even worth it most of the time--pushing and pushing just to make it through today, and then pushing even harder through tomorrow. We’re supposed to live for the good days, but I haven’t had a good day yet. I don’t know if I want to be here, or if it's even worth it, but I’m not giving up yet. Giving up would make me a coward, and I’m not a coward. I’m brave.

\---

"Violet," a voice whispers in my ear. I open my eyes slowly, groaning with the few hours of sleep I was able to get. It's been rough these past few months, however long it's been--I don't count the days anymore. Glenn, my big brother, is sitting next to my sleeping bag, half of a goofy smile on his face. 

"Ugh! What the fuck?" I say, pushing his face away from me. He chuckles obnoxiously, going in to tickle my sides. I'm going to end his life. 

"Stop! I'm gonna kill you Glenn, I swear to god," I say, giggling. At that he gives up. 

"Alright, alright I'm done," he says as I sit up, eyeing him suspiciously. 

"What did you wake me up for?" I ask and the smile on his face drops. 

"I'm going on a run. Me, Morales, Andrea, T-Dog, Jacqui, and Merle. We'll be back by dark, promise." I look at him, eyes squinted. The last time he promised me he'd be back by dark, he didn't turn up for three days. 

"This gonna be like last time?" 

"No, Violet, we’re only hitting up a couple places. In and out; I promise.” He looks me deep in the eyes as he says this. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple.

"Okay.” I push back the top of my sleeping bag, sitting up so I can wrap my arms around him. Taking in a deep breath, I briefly wonder if this will be the last time I hug him.

"Glenn! Let's go, the truck's running," Morales's voice comes from outside the tent.

"Alright that's me," he says, kissing my forehead and standing up. "Stay safe, listen to Lori, don't be stupid. I love you peanut," he smiles and leaves the tent.

I stare at the opening of the tent for a moment before grabbing my shoes and hastily putting them on. As I run out of the tent, my beat up sneakers aren't even tied, but the truck has already pulled off for Atlanta, the morning sun peeking out over the horizon. 

  


I gather mushrooms with Amy for a while. We're about the same age, and though we don't have very much in common, I enjoy her company. After, I help Shane grab water, he's not my favorite person but he holds the group together, which is just enough to gain my respect. Then, after I complete my chores, I watch after the kids--Carl, Sophia, and Morales's children--we all play down at the quarry for a bit. Morales's kids are really cute and so is Sophia but something about Carl makes me sick to my stomach. He's the same age my little brother was, maybe that's why. 

By late afternoon I'm pretty bored and decide to sit under the shade of the RV and draw. I've been sitting like this for a while, sketching, as Amy paces tirelessly in front of me. 

"It's late they should've been back by now," she expresses worriedly, referring to the group that went on the run this morning. I feel exactly the same. I've been trying to ignore my anxiety about the group's whereabouts, but as the day drags on it begins to pool deep in my stomach. 

"Worrying won't make it better," Dale replies, and almost immediately after, the CB radio begins to crackle. 

"Hello base-camp, can anybody out there hear me?" it says and I stand up presently from my spot, heart beating quick in my chest. "Base camp, this is T-Dog," he says as Dale rushes up the RV ladder to respond. 

"Hello, hello. Receptions bad on this end repeat, repeat," Dale replies. 

"We're trapped in a department store," T-Dog informs and all relief is gone in a matter of seconds. Trapped. "There's geeks all around us here, hundreds of them. We're surrounded," Surrounded, geeks, hundreds--I feel sick to my stomach. The silence drags forever as Dale tries to get T-Dog to speak again. 

"So we're just gonna leave her there?" Amy says. We're just gonna leave Glenn there? I want to scream. Shane is responding to her with some "good of the group" bullshit. Good thing he isn't talking to me, I would spit right in his smug face.

"She's gone," Shane says to Amy, then looking at me, "he's gone. so we just have to deal with that." He's gone. Glenn is gone. Amy storms off. I stand there staring at the ground.

"Violet," Shane says, trying to get me to meet his eyes. But I won't, tears are welling and I know that if I don't walk away I'll explode, so that's what I do, I walk away.

Carl and someone else, probably Lori, call after me but I don't respond, I break out in a sprint towards my tent. The tears are making my vision so blurry I almost trip and the tightness in my chest is so bad I can't breathe. Those words replay in my head over and over, He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, gone, gone. I rip open my tent and fall onto my sleeping bag, sobs pull through my chest with a ferocity I've only ever felt once before.

My entire family is gone, I’m the only one left--me. Glenn was it, he was the last one and now he’s gone just like mom, and just like dad. He promised me he’d be back before dark, he promised me. He promised. He fucking promised.

\---

I’m not sure how long I’ve spent staring at the top of the tent before I hear a ringing sound, or maybe “whooping” would be a better word. Eventually curiosity gets the better of me, and despite being exhausted from crying, I leave the tent. Dale is on top of the RV, binoculars in hand, looking for the source of the sound I can assume. Is there a chance it could be them?

“Is it them? Are they back?” Amy asks, reading my thoughts.

“What is it?” I ask.

“A stolen car is my guess,” Dale replies, lowering his binoculars.

We all stand around in anticipation, waiting to see who is in the car and why they are here. The tension is thick as a red sports car swerves around the corner, screeching to a stop right at the front of camp. My heartbeat is in my ears. Everyone begins to crowd around the car but I can’t bring myself to move from my spot, I don’t know why. Then the car door opens and I see his red baseball cap, along with the goofy smile plastered on his face.

Glenn.

The feeling of relief that I get is like nothing I have ever experienced, it’s fast and pure and dizzying.

“Glenn!” I scream, kicking up dirt as I sprint towards him. I’m sure I practically crush him with the clasping of my arms. But he’s laughing and squeezing me back and all I can think is thank god. Amy and Shane are yelling at him about something but I don’t care, there is no way I’m letting go. The yelling stops along with the car alarm and I begin to cry. I can’t help it, I was so scared, I was so sure he was dead.

“You were dead, you were dead Glenn. Gone,” I mumble into his chest. He pulls back so he can look me in the eyes.

“Dead? Are you crazy?” he says, but for some reason I can’t meet his eyes. “Hey, look at me. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m not gone, never,” I nod and he pulls me back into his chest.

Before long, another vehicle pulls up behind the sports car, a big truck. Andrea comes out first, reuniting with Amy, then Jacqui and all the rest. It’s a beautiful site: friends and family coming back together. But it’s not so happy for everyone, I can hear constricted sobs from behind me and see Lori comforting a sobbing Carl; he must be thinking about his dad. Carl’s dad died in a shooting accident before this whole thing went down. He’ll never get a reunion with his father.

"How'd y'all get out of there anyway?" Shane asks. I unawarely had the same question.

"New guy, he got us out," Glenn answers. I look up at him with excited eyes and he smiles.

"New guy?" Shane asks. He seems apprehensive. He’s been much more protective of our group recently, what with his and Lori’s “affair.”

"Yeah, crazy vato, just got into town,” Morales says, his family still clinging to him, “hey, Helicopter Boy! Come say hello,"

Out of the truck comes a lean man, maybe in his mid-thirties. He has curly brown hair, a stubbly face, and is wearing a wrinkled sheriff’s uniform. He looks like people used to look except for his distressed expression. His eyes begin to widen and his mouth falls agape as he points behind me in disbelief.

“Dad!” Carl screams, barreling towards the man. My eyes shoot wide and I can’t believe it. I’m so overwhelmed with shock and happiness, I begin to laugh. They practically tackle each other, falling onto the ground. Lori looks so shocked she almost seemed scared, as she grips her husband over the shoulders.

Maybe miracles are real.

\---

The air is cool but the fire is warm. We are all gathered together, around a small fire Shane and Dale built earlier. The Grimes family is cuddled together, Rick’s arm around his wife and his son laying between his legs. Andrea and Amy are against one another, Amy’s arms around her sister. And I’m sitting with Glenn, my head resting against his shoulder. It’s nice, the rest in the group almost seem lonely with all the reuniting there was today.

Rick’s telling everyone about how he got here, how it felt to go out with the world like it was before and then to wake up with the dead walking. ‘Disorienting’, is the word he says best describes it, but I would’ve used ‘terrifying’.

There is a loud crackle and pop behind me, Ed has just put another log in his fire. We’re not supposed to build our fires big because then the geeks could see us, he knows this.

“Hey, Ed. You wanna rethink that log?” Shane says, before getting up from his spot to go handle him.

“I hate that Carl and Sophia have to deal with that,” I whisper up to Glenn.

“They have to deal with a lot more than just that, Peanut,” Glenn says, disappointment in his tone. It takes me a minute to figure out what he means but by then Shane’s already back and Dale has changed the subject.

“Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?” he asks, and before now I hadn’t really noticed but it makes sense why everything has been so quiet--Merle didn’t come back from the run. “He won’t be happy to hear his brother was left behind,” Dale continues. Daryl isn’t as much of an asshole as his big brother, but he’ll sure throw a fit when he finds out Merle was left in Atlanta.

“I’ll tell him, I dropped the key, it’s on me” T-Dog offers.

“I cuffed him, that makes him mine,” Rick says.

“Guys, it’s not a competition. I don’t mean to bring race into this but it might sound better coming from a white guy,” says Glenn. And considering Merle’s view on race, this made sense. Daryl could very much be just as racist.

Everyone goes back and forth for a while before T-Dog mentions chaining the door to the roof before he left, the roof Merle was left on.

“My point is, Dixon’s alive.”

“Are you suggesting going back to get him?” I ask, wondering why anyone would do all that for someone like Merle Dixon.

“I’m not suggesting anything, I’m just saying that he’s still up there handcuffed on that roof. That’s on us.” And with that T-Dog gets up from the campfire and heads towards his tent.

I lay in my tent later, thinking about him--about Merle. Imaging his body sitting up there, all dried up and yellowed from the hot sun. His mouth agape like a geek’s, snapping and growling. T-Dog was right, we can’t just leave him there to die, we have to go get him. We have to.

\---

I couldn’t sleep much last night, so naturally I’m up early with Carol and Sophia, washing clothes from the day before. I don’t find joy in sitting around, it leaves too much time to think. So, I have Rick’s Sheriff uniform in hand, working on a bloody stain on the right shoulder. It won’t seem to come out though, no matter how hard I scrub.

“Here sweetie, lemme see it,” Carol says, knowing exactly what to do, I can assume. After a moment of scrubbing she speaks up again, “This is the last of it girls, I’ll get the rest of it later today, alright? Just take your buckets back to camp and I’ll meet you there,” she finishes, a sweet smile showing on her face.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sophia and I respond, almost in unison. Then we pour our soapy buckets into the quarry water and begin the trip up the hill.

Halfway there I look into my bucket and notice there’s a bit of soapy water left at the bottom, and for no other reason than pure mischief, I tip the water onto Sophia. “Oops,” I say, trying to hold back laughter. Amused shock fills her features.

“Oh you’re gonna get it now Violet Rhee!” she screams, and I break into a sprint, giggling and laughing along with her. She chases me all the way to camp and we throw our buckets down onto the ground, not missing a beat.

“Where are you guys going?” Carl calls, sitting on the ground, playing with the dirt.

“Come on!” Sophia calls back, and soon Carl follows after us, chasing the both of us into the woods.

I can hear them behind me, laughing. Eventually their laughter becomes far away and I’m convinced I’ve lost them. Chuckling to myself, I back through a row of bushes, turning around to face the clearing behind me. But my chuckling immediately stops. Right in front of me is a geek: gray face, torn clothes, snapping jaw. He’s coming right for me.

I try to run away but I hit the tree behind me and stumble to the ground, there’s a scream in my throat but it won’t come. The geek falls on top of me, and he’s heavy. The blood in his mouth, from his previous snack, drips on my nose, cheeks, forehead, everywhere. There’s a scream behind me, maybe Carl or Sophia--it doesn’t matter. The geek’s teeth are so close to my nose, I’m sure this is it, this is how I die. My arms are trembling, the geek’s mouth is growing closer and closer when WHAM! He’s knocked off of me by a wooden baseball bat. I see my savior, Morales, make bug eyes at me before going back to hit the walker again. Glenn joins him, and then Rick, Jim, Dale, and Shane. They all beat at him with sticks, pitchforks, and the back of a shotgun before Dale finally slices its head off with an axe. There’s a moment of silence and heavy breathing before Glenn whips around to face me.

“Jesus, Violet,” he says, picking me up off the ground and examining my bare arms and neck. “Did it get you? Were you bit? Scratched?”

“N-No,” I say, still shaking with fear and adrenaline.

“Thank god,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief and pulling me to his chest. I should feel better now that I’m safe but I don’t in the slightest.

“That’s the first one we’ve had up here, they never come this far up the mountain,” Dale says.

“Well they’re running out of food in the city, that’s what” Jim counters.

Then there’s shuffling in the woods, the thought of another walker appearing crosses my mind and I begin to feel sick to my stomach. But it’s just Daryl, wielding his signature crossbow and sleeveless t-shirt. I believe this is the first time I’ve been happy to see him.

“Son of a bitch,” he exclaims, making his way out of the trees. “That’s my deer! Look at it--all gnawed on by this filthy, disease-bearing, motherless, poxy bastard” he retorts angrily, kicking the headless geek at our feet. Something about the way its hands flop back and forth as he kicks it makes me even more sick to my stomach.

“Calm down son, that’s not helping,” Dale says.

I can’t even focus on what they’re saying anymore for trying to keep the bile from rising in my throat. Daryl pulls the arrows out of the deer the walker was gnawing on, and tries to see if he can salvage what’s left of it.

“What do you think? Think we could cut around this chewed up part right here?” He asks.

“I would not risk that,” Shane replies, and I couldn’t agree more. I’m hungry but the thought of eating the same thing that walker was eating? Bile.

“That’s a damn shame,” he says, making eye-contact with me and seeing the blood covering my face, this causes him to stutter his next sentence, “I-I’ve got some squirrel though, about a dozen or so. That’ll have to do.”

As we all begin to turn away and head back to camp, there’s a popping sound from behind us. The geek’s severed head is snapping its teeth. I remembered it’s jaw being inches away from my face, doing that same thing, and the bile in my throat is too much to hold back. I turn around and puke right into the bushes.

Andrea comes behind me and rubs my back. “Come on honey let’s get you cleaned up,” she says, and I nod.

\---

After washing up at the quarry, Amy, Andrea, and I make our way back to camp. As we grow closer Shane and Rick’s voices are heard, Shane sounds agitated. By the time I’m close enough to hear what’s going on, Lori speaks up.

“So, you and Daryl? That’s your big plan?”

Rick huffs and looks at Glenn.

“Oh, come on,” Glenn complains, and I can only guess what they’re asking him to do.

"You know the way. You've been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself," Rick insists.

I can’t believe they’re asking him to go to Atlanta again! He barely got back last time, I’m not letting him out of my sight.

“It’s not fair of me to ask, I know that, but I’d feel a lot better with you along,” Rick continues. Glenn nods at Rick before looking over at me and seeing the look on my face.

“Violet-” he starts, but I cut him off.

“No Glenn, there is no way I’m letting you go off to get killed. Not again, I can’t do this again, I can’t Glenn,” I say frantically, tears in my eyes.

“Vi, I have to, they don’t know the city like I do, they won’t make it back.”

“You won’t make it back! I’m not gonna sit here in front of the CB, listening to the static, again. If you’re going, I’m going.”

“Oh no, definitely not. Not after this morning.”

“Glenn, that’s precisely why I need to go! I’ve got to learn how to take care of myself,” I say, whipping my arms around, trying to get him to understand.

“You almost died Violet!”

“Yeah? So did you!” I finish. Glenn’s looking at the ground, shaking his head. “Please,” I plead, grabbing his forearm so he’ll look at me. “Please.”

There’s a moment of silence, he’s thinking. And then...

“Fine.”


	2. plunderers.

I’m standing on the back of the truck, holding the side rail as Glenn backs it up.

“Keep coming, keep coming. A little more… you’re good,” I shout to him, sitting on the edge when the truck comes to a stop. We’re not just going to Atlanta for Merle now, we’re going for a bag of guns too, apparently Rick dropped it on his way into the city. We can use the guns to protect camp, so it sounds like a good bet to me. 

“Here kid,” Daryl says, sitting down next to me. He’s holding a knife--offering it to me. I look up at him with wide eyes, wondering if he's serious. He nods his head, smiling a bit. In awe, I unsheathe the blade from it's black, leather pouch. It's not a very big knife, the blade's about the size of my hand, but it's shiny and has a dark wood handle. Wow.

"Wh- Why?" I ask. Daryl hasn’t spoken to me since he found Glenn and I on the edge of Atlanta, so he doesn’t have much reason to be so generous. 

“You need to be able to protect yourself. That thing that happened this morning? That shouldn’t happen again,” he finishes, getting up from his spot. I can’t help the smile that grows on my face, I’ve never seen him act this way before. 

A minute later, the aforementioned is pressing the horn with his foot. “Come on! Let’s go,” he yells. 

Rick and T-Dog then make their way to the truck, Shane hot on Rick’s trail. I move to sit farther into the cube-van, deciding to sit in-between Glenn and the passenger seat.

“You ready for this, Peanut?” Glenn asks, turning in his seat a bit. Before I can answer T-Dog speaks up.

“You’re real stupid for letting her come along with us, Glenn. Sorry kid,” he states, and honestly there’s a good chance he’s right.

“Nah, she can handle herself T-Dog. She don’t need no babysitter,” Daryl counters. I smile to myself, thinking of the knife wedged in the waist of my shorts.

“Yeah, I’ve got this,” I say to T-Dog, smiling.

“Alright then,” he says, half-smiling back at me. 

Then Rick hops into the truck, putting five rounds in his pistol and huffing to himself. I look behind me as Daryl slams the truck door closed. And we're off. 

We’re forced to take many back roads because of all the abandoned traffic jams, so it takes about ten minutes to reach the outskirts of the city. Glenn is driving us along a railroad track, the wooden planks causing the truck to bump incessantly.

“He’d better be okay,” Daryl says, “it’s my only word on the matter.” 

“I told you the geeks can’t get at him,” T-Dog replies, “The only thing that’s gonna get through that door is us.” Daryl doesn’t speak again but he doesn’t seem convinced.

Glenn pulls us to a stop a couple yards from a big chain link fence. The gate is unlocked.

“We walk from here,” he says, turning off the engine. I make my way out of the truck, Daryl pulling up the big folding door. I’m so nervous, my knees are shaking a little. I haven’t been to Atlanta since the refugee center fell, and Glenn and I fled. 

They all wait for me to hop out before starting to run, Glenn leading the way and me beside him.

We reach another fence but this one doesn’t have a gate. Glenn has cut a hole for us to fit through though, I maneuver it first and then the rest behind me.

“Merle first or guns?” Rick asks.

“Merle! We ain’t even having this conversation,” Daryl counters.

“We are,” Rick replies, blowing a breath from his nose and sounding empathetic. “You know the geography. It’s your call,” he says to Glenn.

“Merle’s closest. The guns would mean doubling back,” Glenn says, as we begin to pick up the pace again, “Merle first.” 

We run through back-alleys for a while, trying to get ourselves to the center of the city without being seen. 

In one of the identical alleys, Glenn stops us, “This is it,” he declares, gesturing to a side door, but there’s two walkers blocking the way. “Vi, hold my bag,” he says, throwing it to me. Daryl gets the one farthest from us and Glenn takes out the one closest, driving his knife into its skull.

Naturally, Rick takes the lead and brings us into the building. I’m a little on edge but overall okay, putting my hand around the knife at my side makes me feel more safe. Rick points at a singular walker about ten feet away and Daryl points his crossbow at it. 

“You’re one ugly skank,” he says. He shoots it and it falls.

We rush up the steps to the roof, Glenn moving so fast behind me he almost steps on the heel of my shoe. Reaching the top, T-Dog takes his bolt cutters and snaps the padlock that’s been keeping Merle safe from the geeks.

Daryl kicks the door open, “Merle! Merle!” he screams but there’s no response. We rush to where Merle was cuffed. Jesus.

“No! No!” Daryl screams. 

On the metal of the pipe there is a set of handcuffs, one side attached and the other side empty. It’s covered in fresh blood and sitting on the ground beneath it is none other than Merle Dixon’s dirty, severed, hand.

Holy shit.

The shock and fear caused by the sight of Merle’s bloody hand quickly dissolves and Daryl, breathing heavily in anger, points his crossbow at T-Dog’s head. Rick, just as fast in the draw, points his pistol at Daryl’s temple. I begin to rush towards them but Glenn grabs my arm.

“I won’t hesitate. I don’t care if every walker in the city hears it,” Rick says, his voice unwavering.

Daryl, eye’s beginning to tear up, puts down the crossbow and asks T-Dog for a do-rag, to which he hands him one. 

“I guess the saw blade was too dull for the handcuffs,” he says, picking the hand up by the finger and turning it, “ain’t that a bitch.” Then he wraps up his brother's bloody hand in the handkerchief and makes a ‘come here’ motion at me. I can only assume what he wants.

“Oh come on,” I say, scrunching my face in disgust. The only person who brought a backpack was Glenn and of course I’m carrying it. He puts the hand in the backpack.

“He must have used a tourniquet--maybe his belt,” he says. “Be much more blood if he didn’t.”

Following the blood on the ground, Daryl brings us through a door on the opposite side of the roof. There’s a room with a couple lockers and then a set of descending stairs.

“Merle? You in here?” Daryl calls down the steps. I wince at how loud it echoes. 

We reach the bottom and there’s a short hallway; this used to be an office building. I’m in the back of the group, T-Dog and the rest in front of me. I hear something in the room to my right and before even thinking of what it could be, I push the door open and it squeaks. Shit. The walker stares me dead in the face--it’s jaw has been ripped completely out. My breath hitches in my throat but I can’t speak. My hand goes to the knife at my waist and I shuffle backwards, hitting the door frame. The walker begins to come at me, growling and snapping, and I can’t breathe. I pull my knife out and hold it tight, clenching my jaw. I am brave. It’s foot catches on a wheely office chair and it tumbles to the group. I am strong. I rush towards the thing. I am alive. I smash the knife into the geeks skull. One, two, maybe three times. My hands are shaking and I can feel blood on my neck.

“Violet,” says a voice behind me. I turn around and it’s Glenn, wide-eyed and terrified. He eyes the knife in my hand. After a moment of heavy breathing he asks “you alright?” and I nod, walking to him. He puts an arm around my shoulder and I lean into his side. “Come on, we gotta find Merle.”

Merle’s trail of blood loss and dead walkers leads up to a commercial-looking kitchen.

“Merle!” Daryl calls again, his voice echoing through the room.

“We’re not alone here, remember?” Rick chastises. 

“Screw that. He could be bleeding out, you said so yourself.”

There’s a belt unraveled on the floor, and on the counter, four candle looking things, still burning and covered in blood. I think I’m gonna be sick when Rick picks up an iron lying next to them.

“What’s that burnt stuff?” Glenn asks, and I look back at him, giving him a knowing look. His eyes widen when he realizes.

“Skin. He cauterized the stump,” Rick confirms. Glenn looks like he’s gonna be sick as well. 

“Told you he was tough. Nobody can kill Merle but Merle,” Daryl says. I make my way around them and to the other side of the kitchen.

“Don’t take that on faith. He’s lost a lot of blood,” Rick replies, but after what I’ve seen today, I almost believe Daryl. 

“Maybe, but that didn’t stop him from escaping this hell hole,” I say, having found the window that Merle busted out of. It’s about an eight foot drop, ridiculous for anyone else but not surprising for Merle, even with only one hand.

“He left the building?” Glenn asks, shocked. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Daryl counters, coming around the side of me to peer out the busted glass. “He’s out there alone as far as he knows, doing what he’s got to do. Surviving.”

“You call that surviving? Just wandering out in the streets, maybe passing out? What are his odds out there?” T-Dog says.

“No worse than being handcuffed and left to rot by you sorry pricks,” Daryl spits. And then to Rick, “you couldn’t kill him. Ain’t so worried about some dumb, dead, bastard.”

“What about a thousand dumb, dead, bastards? Different story?” Rick starts, beginning a long bickering session between himself and a very pissed off Daryl Dixon. I’m focused on my very red right hand, trying to wipe the blood off onto my shirt-tail. T-Dog brings me out of my trance.

“Only if we get those guns first,” he says, refusing to go find Merle until we retrieve the guns left on the street during Rick’s not so glorious arrival. “I’m not strolling the streets of Atlanta with just my good intentions, okay?”

And at this Glenn begins to concoct a plan. He grabs an expo marker from the desk to his right and starts to draw on the floor--a map of the city it looks like.

“I think we’d have the best chance if I went for the guns alone,” he starts and I’m already against the entire idea.

“No way, Glenn,” I say, bug-eyed and absolutely flabbergasted that he would even think this is an option.

“You’re not doing this alone,” Rick agrees.

“Even I think it’s a bad idea and I don’t even like you much,” says Daryl, leaning on his knees.

“It’s a good idea. Just hear me out,” Glenn presses. “If we go out there in a group, we’re slow, drawing attention. If I’m alone, I can move fast.”

“Glenn, no,” I say, trying to get through to him but he won’t listen.

“Look,” he begins, glancing at me and grabbing a binder clip on the floor. He places it between two expo-marker buildings. “That’s the tank, five blocks from where we are now.” Then grabbing a crumpled paper, “that’s the bag of guns.” And then pointing to a spot nearby, “here’s the alley I dragged Rick into when we first met. That’s where Daryl and I will go.”

“Why me?” he asks.

“Your crossbow is quieter than his gun,” Glenn responds, and Daryl nods. “While Daryl waits here in the alley, I run up the street, grab the bag.”

“You got us elsewhere?” Rick asks.

“You and T-Dog, right. You’ll be in this alley here,” Glenn shows.

“Two blocks away? Why?” Rick questions.

“I may not be able to come back the same way, walkers might cut me off. If that happens, I won’t go back to Daryl, I’ll go forward instead, all the way back to that alley where you guys are. Whichever way I go, I’ve got you guys to cover me.”

“What about me?” I ask, still not sure about the plan but complying nonetheless.

“You come with me, help me cover Glenn’s ass,” Daryl says, before turning back to my brother.

“Alright then, it’s settled. Afterwards we all meet back here,” Glenn finishes, before beginning to stand up.

“Hey kid,” Daryl starts, and for a second I almost think he’s talking to me, “what’d you do before all this?”

To which Glenn responds, “delivered pizzas, why?”

We climb down the ladder into the alleyway, Glenn, then Daryl, and then me. It’s eerily quiet as we approach the street and my heartbeat is in my throat. Hiding behind a dumpster, Glenn removes his over-shirt, throwing it to me.

“You’ve got some balls for a chinaman,” Daryl says, to which I roll my eyes.

“We’re korean,” we almost say in unison, and like that Glenn is rushing onto the street.

I watch him from the alleyway, clutching my knife. I’m not sure if I could manage to use it again but it makes me feel safer. I begin to hate this plan more and more as the geeks take notice of Glenn’s presence. 

After Glenn is out of my sight I begin to hear footsteps and I look to Daryl warily, we share the same thought. Popping up from behind the dumpster, crossbow and knife ready, we notice it’s a kid. My age probably, maybe a little older.

“Whoa, don’t shoot me! What do you want?” he says, his hispanic accent is thick.

“I’m looking for my brother, he’s hurt real bad. You seen him?” Daryl spits. And the fear in the kids eyes is heavy.

“Ayudame!” he yells, and I can’t help but shush him.

“Shut up! You’re gonna bring the geeks right on us,” I say.

“Answer me,” Daryl growls again, but the kid won’t shut up, so naturally he takes the butt of Daryl’s crossbow right to the face. 

I stand behind Daryl in shock as he tries to muffle the kids screaming, but then two more men rush into the alleyway, kicking Daryl in the side and beating him with a baseball bat.

“Hey!” I scream, jumping on top of the man closest to me and my knife clattering to the ground. I begin to scratch at the man’s eyes but he throws me off, effectively knocking the wind out of me.

Rolling over in pain, I see Glenn rushing into the alley, bag of guns in hand. “That’s it! That’s the bag, vato! Take it!” the baseball bat-man screams, the both of them charging towards Glenn. I pull myself off the ground and grab my knife, running after them and, without thinking, plunge it into the bald one's butt cheek. He screams in agony, turning to me with disgust. He yells something at me in spanish but all I catch is ‘puta’, before he slaps me square in the side of the head, and my vision goes black.

\---

I open my eyes to a big room, it’s dark and old looking. The smell of sweat and body odor is thick, as about twenty men mill around. There’s duct tape on my mouth and rope wrapped around my hands. To my left sits Glenn, and though I’m relieved to see him, that’s where the relief stops. Rivers of sweat drip down his face and into his bloodshot eyes--I’ve gotta get us out of here. I feel around behind me for anything to break me free of this rope. I find what seems to be a nail, it’s bent and not very sharp, but maybe it’ll work. Just as I get a hold on it though, there’s murmuring amongst the men, and Glenn and I share a look of fear. Two begin to come towards us, one of them sending us a devious smirk.

“It’s time to take a walk,” he says, before throwing a bag over my head and submerging me in darkness once again.

I’m yanked to my feet and practically dragged across the ground. The man seems unfazed by my flailing as he throws me over his shoulder. We’re ascending a set of stairs and then I hear the sound of a metal door swinging on its hinges and slamming shut. There’s light streaming in through the sack on my face, and I can feel wind brushing my arms--were high. Suddenly I’m flipped off of the man's shoulder and he whips off the bag. Everything is bright and it takes a minute for it all to come into focus, but then I realize I’m on a roof, almost dangling from the edge thanks to the burly man behind me. My heart beat is barreling in my chest and I scream in fear, but the tape over my mouth is too thick.

Rick, Daryl, and the kid are at the bottom. I squirm and try to scream for them as they look up at Glenn and I, but it doesn't seem to matter. I’m dangled there as they talk to our captors but I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying. Hopefully they’re making a deal so we can go home. But after a moment, Rick and Daryl turn to leave, and I can’t believe it. They’re leaving us here. 

“No!” I scream, but it only comes out as a muffle. The burly man grabs me by the waist and hauls me back through the door. I’m gonna die here if I don’t get out. As we descend the steps the man’s hold on me begins to loosen and I cock my elbow back, coming into perfect contact with his balls. 

“Fuck!” the man screams, letting go of me and grabbing his crotch. He tries to reach out at me as I dart away, but just narrowly misses the end of my ponytail. I rush down a nearby hallway, heading towards a door with glass windows; I see trees. Living off of pure adrenaline, I swing it open. But immediately the door meets something on the other side and I run into it, slamming my head into the glass.

As my head spins with pain, there’s a voice--an old man’s. “Oh my, are you alright dear?” he asks. Pulling up next to me in his wheelchair.

“I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t know you were trying to come out,” he says, looking remorseful. I go to respond but the tape is still covering my mouth. “Here, let me get that,” he offers, peeling it from my lips. He then unties the rope from my hands, a content look on his face. “There you go hun. Now come on, let’s get you some water,” he finishes, pushing his wheelchair towards another set of double doors. The man who was chasing me before busts into the garden and stares at me with wide eyes--out of breath. I’m almost scared he’ll begin to chase me again but he simply sighs in annoyance and turns on his heel.

The building the wheelchair-bound man leads me into is filled with other elderly people, some reading, some eating, and others sleeping. If I wasn’t just now seeing it, I wouldn’t believe this had anything to do with the gang that took Glenn and I hostage.

“Clarice!” the man in the wheelchair exclaims, and a blonde woman, maybe 50 or 60, comes to his assistance. She eyes me warily before leaning down to address him.

“Yes, Mr. Gilbert?”

“Can you please get this young lady some water? She took an awful hit to the head,” he says. And she leaves the hall to get me some water, I can assume.

Behind me, the door swings open and the burly man pushes Glenn inside, he looks terrified, but then glances around the room in confusion, as I did earlier. “What the hell-” he begins, trailing off.

I give him a knowing look just as Clarice returns with a bottle of water. I chug it graciously before offering Glenn the rest.

“Would you like to play cards?” Mr. Gilbert asks, eyeing Glenn and I. It’s incredibly odd to be treated this casually after just being knocked out and tied up, but I nod nonetheless, Glenn following behind me. 

So my brother and I play Go Fish with Mr. Gilbert and a few elderly women for a while. As we’re on our fifth game, Glenn, having bragged the entire time, is convinced he’s won, but Mr. Gilbert comes out with one more match than him.

“Oh come on!” Glenn yells, throwing his cards onto the table, “you’re lying there’s no way!” he claims, beginning to count Mr. Gilbert’s matches himself. The aforementioned is beside himself in laughter, slapping his knee like it's nobody's business. But then his laughter turns into a dry wheeze and he starts to cough.

“Mr. Gilbert?” I ask, setting down my hand of cards and moving to crouch beside him. “Breathe, sir, breathe,” I try, but he can’t seem to catch his breath.

“His medicine,” one of the ladies at the table speaks up, “he needs his medicine--for his asthma. I have to get Felipe.” And at this she gets up from the table. 

I hope that Felipe is able to get the medicine, because I don’t know how long Mr. Gilbert will last like this.

Eventually, the woman reappears, leading a bald man into the room. I recognize him as the man I stabbed and he recognizes me as well, staring daggers. 

“Alright. Nice and easy, just breathe” he says, kneeling next to Mr. Gilbert, inhaler in hand. I back up next to Glenn, noticing Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog entering the room.

“What the hell is this?” Rick asks. It’s obvious he’s having an asthma attack, Rick, jeez.

“An asthma attack,” Glenn responds.

“Couldn’t get his breath all of a sudden,” I finish for him.

“I thought y’all were getting eaten by dogs!” T-Dog says, frustrated. To which Glenn and I glance at the measly chihuahuas sitting in the dog bed behind us.

Knowing that Mr. Gilbert is okay is a relief. I place my hand on his shoulder, to which he nods, smiling up at me a bit.

The group follows the gangs leader, G, into an office off the side of the rec room, and Rick throws the bag of guns on the table. With this, he continues to ask G about how his gang came about. Mr. Gilbert already told Glenn and I all about the nurses who abandoned them here, and that Felipe and Guillermo, G, were the only ones who stayed to care for them. 

As I’m pushing a rock around with the toe of my shoe, Daryl comes up next to me. He’s holding out my knife, “you dropped this,” he says, referring to me sticking it into Felipe’s buttocks.

“Thank you,” I respond with a chuckle, relieved that he had retrieved it for me. He nods simply.

“The people we’ve encountered since things fell apart are the worst kind--plunderers. The kind that take by force,” G says, as I begin to tune back into their conversation.

“That’s not who we are,” Rick counters.

“How was I to know?” G says, and he has a point. “My people were attacked and you show up with Miguel hostage--appearances.”

“Guess the world changed,” T-Dog says sarcastically, sitting against the wall behind me.

“No,” G starts, being serious, “it’s the same as it ever was--the weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city, but most can’t even get to the bathroom by themselves, so that’s just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that’s worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here, they all look to me now. I don’t even know why.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Rick speaks, “because they can,” he says and hands his shotgun to Guillermo. He grabs a few more guns, setting them on the table beside him. 

I’m realizing that the more time I spend with Rick the more I come to like him. He’s kind and nowadays that’s really hard to find.

We make our way back to the railroad tracks, guns in hand. I’m holding a pistol--it’s heavy and feels too big for my palm. Rick explained to me how to use it but it doesn’t matter, I don’t think I’d be able to use it anyways.

“Admit it, you only came back to Atlanta for the hat,” Glenn teases. He’s referring to the sheriff’s hat sitting atop Rick’s head--it suits him well.

“Don’t tell anybody,” he admits, and I find myself chuckling along with them.

“You’ve given away half our guns and ammo,” Daryl spits. Jeez. 

“Not nearly half,” Rick replies. 

“For what?” he continues, “a bunch of old farts who are gonna die off anyhow? Seriously, how long you think they got?” 

“How long do any of us?” Rick says, before stopping in his tracks. 

“What is it?” I ask, almost bumping into him.

“Where the hell’s our van?” Daryl says, and my heart sinks.

“We left it right there! Who would take it?” Glenn says, distressed. But Rick knows exactly who took it.

“Merle,” he says, as if the name he speaks is a curse word.

\---

We’ve been making our way to camp for at least three hours now--running on foot, up-hill, with a lot of very heavy guns. We would’ve taken our time getting back, but the threat of Merle at camp, absolutely tearing it to bits, was imminent. And now it’s dark.

“Glenn, I can’t. I can’t anymore,” I say, breathlessly--hands on my knees, as I heave in and out. We’ve been jogging for miles and my legs feel like jelly.

“Violet come on, we’re almost there,” he says--a hand on my shoulder. But before I can respond there’s gunshots and faint screaming coming from the direction of camp.

“Oh my god,” Rick says, and I’m thinking the same thing.

The weight of the gun feels heavier in my hand now, as we fly towards camp. Frantic, sweaty, and breathing heavy--we sprint. I can’t help but think of what could be happening, whether it be Merle, or walkers, or both. People could be dead as we speak.

As the screaming and the gun-shots grow louder, the growls of walkers become louder as well. Rick raises his gun and shoots one in front of him, as I realize we’ve reached camp. I can’t even pinpoint where our people are from the masses of geeks that stand amongst us. Everyone around me begins pummeling them down. I join in, shakingly raising my gun at one off to my right and pulling the trigger. The geek’s left shoulder slings back and shoots blood. As it grows closer, and the heartbeat in my ears louder--I pull the trigger again. This time it falls to the ground in a heap. 

After that, I fall in step with Glenn, shooting down walker after walker--not bothering to continue counting after I hit five. There’s a group of them, hunched over, eating. Glenn comes up behind me and shoots one of them, I shoot the other two. They fall over on a girl with her stomach torn to shreds; she has dark brown hair and wears a blue shirt. I don’t know her well but I’ve helped wash clothes with her before. Her name was Norah--she had a pretty laugh. 

It’s quietened down now, nothing to be heard but crying and frightened voices. I find Glenn--he’s looking around frantically, panic in his eyes. I grab his arm, forcing him to look at me. His breathing begins to slow and I nod my head, to which he nods back. Then he wraps his trembling arm around my shoulder and brings us towards the rest of the group.

There’s a cry, a desperate one full of agony and pain. Andrea is sitting on the ground, hunched over her sister--her torso bloody, but her blonde hair flaring out beautifully in the grass. She’s dead. Amy’s dead. 

I push my face into Glenn’s chest, a sob I‘d been holding in finally bubbling to the surface. That could’ve been me--bloody and innocent and dead--lying pretty in the grass. Amy was just my age, and she was bigger than me--stronger too. But she’s dead now, and that could only mean one thing.

I’m next.


	3. heaven's gates.

I’ve been up all night with Glenn, dragging bodies all through camp--some to burn and others to bury. The sun is up now, only confirming that last night was as real as it felt. My hands that were first covered in walker blood are now covered in the blood of our people. No matter how many times I rub them down my t-shirt, they still come up red. 

“What are you guys doing?” Glenn asks, having moved from his spot next to me to question Daryl and Morales who are dragging a body to the burn pile--one of our own. “This is for geeks,” he says, referring to the burning pile of walkers behind us, “our people go over there.”

“What’s the difference? They’re all infected,” Daryl replies nonchalantly, but Glenn won’t have it. 

“Our people go in that row over there. We don’t burn them! We bury them… understand?” Glenn’s voice is throaty with tears, it almost makes me wanna cry again. 

“You reap what you sow,” Daryl says, pissed he got told what to do, I suppose. What an ass. 

“You know what? Shut up, man,” Morales says as Daryl drops the body, ready to throw a fit.

“Y'all left my brother for dead. You had this coming!” Daryl shouts, before storming off.

I roll my eyes and sit down on the grass, feeling light-headed. I haven’t slept a wink since yesterday morning when I got up. Washing clothes in the quarry feels like a lifetime ago, so much has changed now. 

“You alright, Peanut?” Glenn asks, sitting down next to me. 

“Yeah I’m good, just a headache.”

“I told you to go and get some rest hours ago, dummy. Just go to the tent and sleep it off, we can handle the rest of them,” he says, rubbing my back.

“No, no, that wouldn’t sit right with me. I need to pull my weight just as much as you.”

“Violet,” he starts and his condescending tone already has me rolling me eyes, “I know that you-”

“A walker got him! A walker bit Jim!” Glenn is interrupted by Jacque. She’s stumbling away from Jim who’s looking paler than I’ve ever seen him. Everyone in camp stops what they’re doing, the lull of conversation growing silent. 

“Show it to us,” Daryl demands, the pickaxe he’d been using to kill walkers thrown threateningly over his shoulder.

Jim continues to back away as people gather around him. Driven by fear he picks up a shovel, swinging it in front of him. It’s loud now, everyone yelling something: easy, Jim, Jim put it down, somebody grab him. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Jim says on repeat, even after T-Dog grabs him from behind and he drops the shovel. Daryl pulls up his shirt and there on his abdomen is a bite wound, big, red and agitated. Over and over, all Jim can say is, I’m okay, but he’s hundreds of miles from it. 

\---

“I say we put a pickaxe in his head. And the dead girl’s and be done with it,” Daryl starts, but I’ve had enough of his shit today. First almost dragging that body into the burn pile and now the way he’s talking about not only Jim but Amy too? Oh boy. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I say, to which he looks down at me, scrunching his nose. Lucky for him, Shane speaks up before he has to respond. 

“Is that what you would want if it were you?” 

“Yeah, and I’d thank you while you did it,” Daryl says and I could bite his head clean off. Glenn grabs my shoulder though, rubbing it firmly in an attempt to calm me down. 

“I hate to say it-- I never thought I would-- But maybe Daryl’s right,” Dale says stupidly. I swear that old man doesn’t have a lick of sense.

“Jim’s not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog,” Rick counters. Finally! I knew I liked him. 

“I’m not suggesting--,” Dale tries, but Rick won’t have it. nb

“He’s sick. A sick man. We start down that road where do we draw the line?”

“The line’s pretty clear. Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be,” Daryl says.

“What if we can get him help? I heard the C.D.C. was working on a cure,” Rick tries, but it feels useless. With the ways things have been going I doubt the CDC will even be standing, much less have a cure. 

“I heard that too. I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell,” Shane says, doubting Rick just as much if not more than I am.

“What if the CDC is still up and running?” 

“Man, that is a stretch right there.” Yeah, so much I might pull a muscle.

“Why? If there’s any government left, any structure at all, they’d protect the CDC at all costs. Wouldn’t they? I think it’s our best shot. Shelter, protection--.”

“Okay, Rick, you want those things, alright? I do too, okay? Now if they exist, they’re at the army base. Fort Benning,” Shane says but I couldn’t disagree more. What’s the military gonna do? Create more chaos and kill more people? Not again. 

“That’s 100 miles in the opposite direction,” Lori says.

“That is right. But it’s away from the hot zone. Now listen to me. If that place is operational, It’ll be heavily armed. We’d be safe there.” 

“Shane, I see where you’re coming from, but the military’s gone. They sent every troop they could to Atlanta. I’m not sure anyone got out but Glenn and I,” I say. 

“Violet’s right.The CDC is our best choice and Jim’s only chance,” Rick says, grabbing my shoulder in a way that makes me feel like I’m twelve, but at least he agrees. 

“You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do, “ Daryl starts. He’s been relatively silent throughout this entire exchange, but I can tell that’s because a storm has been brewing. He pulls up the pickaxe at his side and charges towards Jim. “Someone needs to have some balls to take care of this damn problem!” 

But he doesn’t have a chance to bring it down. Shane and Rick are already there, the former in front of Jim, shotgun handy, and the latter at his side, colt python pressed to Daryl’s sweaty temple. 

“Hey! We don’t kill the living,” Rick spits. 

“That’s funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head,” says Daryl, looking defeated but still pissed. 

“We may disagree with some things, not on this. You put it down. Go on,” Shane says gripping his shotgun in warning. 

Rick steps around the both of them gripping Jim by the arm and helping him stand up, “Come with me.”

“Where are you taking me?” Jim asks. 

“Somewhere safe.” 

We’re in a field a little ways from camp. Andrea is in front of everyone, dragging Amy’s body into one of the open graves. Almost everyone is crying it seems--it’s hard not to when Andrea seems so helpless, tearfully struggling to bury her own sister. I swipe viciously at the tears that fall down my cheeks and Glenn rubs my back but it doesn’t really help. 

It would be easy to pretend it wasn’t Amy wrapped up in that sheet if not for the bright blonde ponytail sticking out the back. I will probably look just the same when I die, wrapped up tight in a dirty sheet with nothing but my bloody, black ponytail sticking out. Glenn would lower me into the dirt, tearfully struggling just as Amy is, and everyone would stand and watch in sympathy. 

Eventually all of the remaining bodies are buried and we all walk back together, the silence filled with whispers and sniffles. 

“There’s a pretty good chance we-” Glenn starts, but my thoughts are too loud and I can’t help but interrupt.

“Glenn,” I stop in my tracks and so does he. I don’t want to ask but I need to. “A-Am I gonna end up like Amy?” I ask, looking at my blurry shoes. 

“Violet,” he tries but I’m too embarrassed. “Hey look at me!” He grabs my chin tight and forces me to meet his eyes. They’re not as soft as usual--no longer the doey brown eyes I’m used to. Right now his eyes are lit with fire, yet stone cold. There’s not an ounce of doubt behind his irises. “I will never ever let anything happen to you,” he says, “I’ll always be here and you’ll always be safe.”

There’s a moment of silence. The grasshoppers chirp and the long grass sways in the afternoon wind. 

“Thank you,” I say.

He sighs. “Don’t thank me. I’m your brother--it’s my job.” 

\---

There’s a weight at the campfire tonight. The loss of last night, combined with the uncertainty of tomorrow, has left the group detached and quiet--the only noise being the crackling of the ashy fire.

Shane, Rick, and Dale join us at the fire, having just come back from what I assume was a perimeter search. 

“I’ve been thinking about Rick’s plan,” Shane starts, setting down his shotgun, “now look, there are no guarantees either way, I’ll be the first one to admit that, but I’ve known this man a long time and I trust his instincts. I say the most important thing here is we need to stay together. So for those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning. Okay?” 

I look up at Glenn. He nods and I nod back. 

We spend the next few hours packing up all our things. Siphoning out what’s left of the food, potting water from the quarry, and packing up the tents left empty from the attack. It’s busy work but not busy enough to avoid worrying about moving on again. What lies ahead is unknown and sometimes that’s even scarier than the walkers.

\---

It’s pretty early, maybe 8 am, when we all gather together to head out. The camp is completely empty now, save for a few empty cans and the remnants of our fire pit. It feels wrong to be leaving. I didn’t imagine us staying here forever, but neither did I see us leaving so soon.

“Alright everybody listen up,” Shane starts. “Those of you with C.B.s we’re gonna be on channel 40. But let’s keep the chatter down, okay? If you got a problem, don’t have a C.B, can’t get a signal, anything at all, you’re gonna hit your horn one time. That’ll stop the caravan. Any questions?

“We’re uh…. we’re not going,” Morales speaks up. The silence is heavy.

“We have family in Birmingham. We want to be with our people,” Miranda offers, but it doesn’t really help. At a time like this, we need all the people we can get and Morales is a really strong member of our group. But still, I understand, if my family was still out there I would leave the group in a heartbeat to be with them.

“If you go on your own, you won’t have anyone to watch your back,” Shane warns. I wonder if it’s because he cares or if he too realizes how integral Morales is to the group.

“We’ll take the chance. I’ve got to do what’s best for my family,” Morales says. 

“You sure?” Rick asks, but in the way that Morales is standing, I can tell that he’s positive. 

“We talked about it. We’re sure.”

And with that we’re forced to say our goodbyes. Eliza and Louis both give me tear filled hugs to the waist. Miranda thanks me for the help I’ve been over the last few months and squeezes me in a way that suggests I will be missed. And Morales instructs me to keep Glenn out of trouble and ruffles my hair

God I’m gonna miss them. 

Before long we’re all piling into our respective cars and heading out. I’m riding in the RV with Dale, Jacqui, Jim, and of course Glenn. 

I decide to shuffle around the RV for a bit--opening cabinets and drawers. In one there’s a bunch of old books. Ugh, boring. I grab a title I’ve heard of--Huckleberry Finn--and sit on the couch to read. It’s hard to focus though because everytime we hit a bump there’s a cry from the backroom--Jim, groaning in pain. I give up reading and get up to see what Glenn is doing up front.

“Hey peanut,” he greets, smiling big and goofy like he does. 

“Hey.” I nunge his leg, telling him to scoot over. He complies--making just enough room for my little butt to sit. We both look at the map together and he explains the route we’re taking and why because he’s a nerd I guess. I notice that Dale is staring at us and look over.

He shakes his head to indicate that it’s nothing but then asks: “How far apart in age are y'all?”

“Uh, I’m fourteen-”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“Wow!” Dale exclaims, “that’s quite a gap for how close you are. Y’all are like two peas in a pod.” 

I roll my eyes and just when I do there’s a terrible pop from the engine. 

“Oh shit,” Dale says, slowing the RV to a stop. 

“What happened?” I ask. 

“It was probably that radiator hose,” Glenn says with a sigh before motioning me to get up. We step out of the RV as Dale talks to Rick on the C.B.

Glenn opens up the grate and smoke pours out, “damn,” he says. 

“Did it just explode or something?” I ask.

“Yeah, we tried to fix it back at camp but we really needed that hose from the cube van.”  
Glenn sticks his head into it to get a closer look. “Too bad Merle stole it.”

Rick, Shane, and a few others show up to survey the damage. Dale explains the problem. Until we get a new hose we’re not going anywhere.

“I see something up ahead,” Shane says, looking through his binoculars, “gas station if we’re lucky.”

Before anyone can agree on going, Jacqui comes barreling out of the RV “ya’ll, Jim--it’s bad. I don’t think he can take anymore.” 

Shane and T-Dog head to the gas station and Rick goes in the RV to talk with Jim. Glenn and I lean against the front end. 

“Do you think Jim will make it?” I ask. Glenn sighs, pulling off his baseball cap and wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

“I don’t know, Peanut,” he gives a frown, “it’s not really looking like it.”

\---

Shane and Rick lay Jim to rest underneath the shade of a large oak tree and we all say our goodbyes. If anything, he seems at peace, and I know that’s rare. 

I can smell the CDC before I see it. There’s hundreds of bodies--more than I’ve ever seen in one place.

“Come on, get your stuff.” Glenn says, eyes not leaving the terrible scene.

I get up from the seat and grab my bag, stuffing Huckleberry Finn into the front pocket and grabbing my knife.

The smell is only worse once we get out. I have to pull my shirt over my face. The flies that spin around the bodies make my stomach feel queasy. There’s flies in their stomachs and legs and crawling inside their ears-

“Quit staring at it,” Glenn says, grabbing my shoulder, “let’s go.”

The walk feels like forever. There’s so many bodies. God. So many bodies. Shane keeps motioning us along and telling us to keep moving but there’s no way I’m stopping. 

When we reach the big metal doors Rick and Shane try to open them, bang on them, everything, but they aren’t opening. 

“There’s nobody here,” T-Dog says. 

“Then why are these shutters down?” Rick counters. 

“Walkers!” Daryl warns and my heart jumps to my throat. Carl and Sophia start to cry and I might also. Daryl takes it out easily enough but with the noise we’ve been making there’s definitely more to come. “You led us into a graveyard,” Daryl yells, beginning to pace.

I look over at Glenn and he seems just as terrified as me. Everyones yelling and arguing and there’s walkers coming and jesus fucking christ where are we gonna go?!

“Fort Benning, Rick--still an option,” Shane offers.

“On what? No food, no fuel. That’s 100 miles,” Andrea says. 

“125. I checked the map,” Glenn says, which makes this whole thing just that much worse.

“Forget Fort Benning we need answers tonight, now,” Lori spits and god this is all just too much. 

Glenn grabs my hand and pulls me to his side. “Come on Vi let’s get out of here,” but I’m not ready to go yet. It feels too soon for all this hope to dissipate. 

Rick yells out, “the camera--it moved!” And we all stop in our tracks. He’s probably just imaging it but there’s a wish in all of us--we want it to be true too. 

“Violet here,” Glenn says, handing me the gun in his waistband. I point it, with shaky hands, towards the dozens of walkers that are coming towards us. If those doors don’t open, I’m not sure we’ll make it out of here.

Rick is screaming. I’ve never heard him so broken. “Please we’re desperate! If you don’t let us in you’re killing us,” Lori is trying to stop him and so is Shane but he won’t give it up. “You’re killing us!” he screams, as Shane drags him away, “you’re killing us!”

We’re gonna die here. 

But then, as if heaven is opening its gates, a bright white light streams from the doors of the CDC and we are all shocked into silence by it’s promising glow.


	4. now what?

Edwin Jenner. That’s the only man left in the entirety of the CDC. I figured there’d at least be a few people milling around but no. Just one doctor, one man--Edwin Jenner.

We’re required to take a blood test--I’m not sure why. It’s not really a big deal though, I’m just glad to finally have a place to stay. It’s been a long time since I had an actual roof over my head.

I haven’t heard the group laughing and carrying on like this ever, I think. They all sit around the table with their dinners, chatting animatedly and drinking lots of alcohol. Glenn and I sit behind them on the counter, shoulder to shoulder. 

“How is it?” he asks, referring to the half-eaten casserole on my plate.

“Hm? Oh yeah it’s perfect,” I say, mouth completely full. To be honest, I couldn’t tell you what it tasted like if I tried, it’s just food and I’m starving. I’m not even sure when I ate last. 

“You know in Italy, children have a little wine with dinner,” Dale says, pouring Lori a glass. “And France!”

“Well when Carl’s in Italy or France he can have some,” she replies, sounding incredibly motherly, but in the best way. 

“What’s it gonna hurt, come on,” Rick says. He’s been drinking a little--his smile a bit big and silly--but he’s serious. 

So Dale pours him some, just a swallow, “there you are young lad,” he says. Carl takes a sip and he hates it. 

“Eww!” he cries, swallowing it with a sour face. I almost spit out my food from laughing so hard. 

“Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud,” Shane says. 

“Not you, Glenn,” Daryl exclaims, half drunk and pouring himself another glass. 

“What?” my brother says, smiling already even though he has no idea what Daryl’s talking about. 

“Keep drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get,” Daryl says and Glenn laughs, looking down at the champagne bottle in his hands. I nunge his side playfully and he chuckles.

In all the ruckus, Rick begins to clink his knife against his glass, “It seems to me we haven’t thanked our host properly,” he says, standing up and raising his wine in a toast. 

“He is more than just our host.”

“Here, here.”

“Here’s to you doc. Booyah!”

“Cheers,” I say, raising my glass of water and laughing with Glenn as he raises the huge bottle of champagne.

But of course this is all too happy for Shane. He has to ruin it. “So when are you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, doc?” he asks, settling the room into a disappointed silence. “All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring this thing out. Where are they?”

“We’re celebrating, Shane. Don’t need to do this now,” Rick says, which is what we’re all thinking. 

“Whoa, wait a second. This is why we’re here, right?” Shane says. “This was your move, supposed to find all the answers. Instead we… we found him. Found one man. Why?”

When Rick doesn’t speak, Jenner does. “Well when things got bad a lot of people just left--went off to be with their families. And when things got worse--when the military corden got overrun--the rest bolted.”

“Every last one?” Shane asks, not convinced. 

“No, many couldn’t face walking out that door. They...opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time.”

“You didn’t leave. Why?” Andrea asks. 

“I just kept working. Hoping to do some good.”

There’s a moment of silence. No one knows quite what to say. Then Glenn speaks, referring to Shane. 

“Dude, you are such a buzzkill.”

After dinner, Jenner shows us to our rooms. 

“Most of the facility is powered down, including housing, so you'll have to make do here. The couches are comfortable but there’s cots in storage if you’d like. There’s a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy,” he says, looking at Carl and Sophia, and glancing at me. “Just don’t plug in the video games, or anything that draws power. The same applies, if you shower go easy on the hot water,” he finishes, walking away. 

I look over at Glenn who has the same expression, “hot water?” we both say, smiling at each other and looking behind us. Everyone is smiling so big. “Dibs!” I say, pushing past Glenn to get to the closest room.

“No fair!”

\---

The feeling after a hot shower is almost better than during. Everything is warm and comfortable as I sit in the rec room, drawing in my notebook. I’m drawing Carl and Sophia but they don’t know it. They sit in front of me, playing checkers quietly with wet hair and pajamas. Carol is next to me, reading a book.

It’s easy to pretend everything is normal, right now. Like I’m hanging out with friends or babysitting. Nothing unusual, just my after school job babysitting the neighborhood kids. I’m hoping I get paid before Friday, there’s a football game that night and my crush from English class will probably be there. 

Oh, who am I kidding. 

“Any good books?” Lori says. I turn my head and see her in the doorway. She’s in her pajamas as well, a glass of wine perched in her right hand. Her big smile tells me she’s drunk. 

“Uh-huh,” Carol says, closing her book, “enough to keep us busy for years.” 

And in that moment it hits me just how permanent this place could be. We might never have to go back out there again. I could feel like this every night.

“Alright. Come on, kids, it’s bedtime,” Carol instructs. 

“Baby, go say your prayers. I’m gonna browse a bit.” Lori says, grabbing a book from the shelf. 

“This is the first night we might actually get some real sleep. It’s a miracle isn’t it,” Carol claims, leading the kids out of the rec room and off to bed. 

“Goodnight Vi,” they call and I wave goodnight back. 

I stuff my sketchbook and pencils underneath my arm and bid Lori a goodnight as well.

As I return to the room I hear retching coming from the bathroom. Glenn is definitely puking his guts out, no doubt about it. I enter the bathroom with a sigh, bending down next to him to rub his back. 

“That’s right, get it all out.”

He pukes for ages--I’m surprised his stomach doesn’t come up too. He lays with his head hung over the toilet seat for a bit before sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth. 

“Better?” I ask and he nods--exhausted. “Come on let’s get you to bed,” I say, offering him a hand. 

I all but tuck Glenn in, nevertheless he doesn’t seem to mind. I made sure he changed into a new t-shirt and got it all off his face. I love my brother but it does make me a bit sick--taking care of him. Just reminds me too much of my dad--my little brother too. After mom left and Glenn went to college, I was their rock. They leaned on me time and time again. I want things to be normal--desperately I do. But without my dad and… and without Kiko, things can never be normal. 

“Do you ever miss them?” I ask later, lying in my sleeping bag next to the couch. It’s silent for a moment as I assume he’s already gone to sleep. 

“Yeah… everyday,” he says. His voice is soft and hoarse. 

“Me too,” I say, before turning over and falling asleep.

\---

I can tell it’s fairly early when I wake up. Being underground is disorienting but there’s something about the silence around me--I’m sure it’s about eight or nine am. I sit up from my spot and find a crook in my neck. Ugh. 

Glenn is still fast asleep on the couch. He’s breathing obnoxiously from his mouth. 

“Glenn,” I say, shaking his shoulder. He grumbles and turns over. I get up from my spot and lean over him, trying again “Glenn!”

“What?!” he cries, “I’m sleeping…” and then his expression falls and he’s asleep again. To heck with it. I’m gonna see if anyone else is up. 

I pad down the hallway in my too-big pajama pants (I think they’re Lori’s) and nurse the crook in my neck as I head to the cafeteria. The smell of bacon becomes more familiar the closer I get and my stomach grumbles. 

“Mornin’,” T-Dog greets, standing in front of the stove. He’s much too cheery for how early it is, but I kind of like it. Carl, Lori, Andrea, and Dale sit at the table eating breakfast peacefully.

“Morning,” I say, looking over his shoulder, “what cha’ cooking?”

“Bacon!” Carl exclaims from the table. Lori looks tired next to him. “It’s delicious,” he says, gnawing on a piece. I smile, looking over at T-Dog.

“Bacon?” I ask, a smile growing on my face. 

“It’s actually turkey bacon,” he whispers, “but I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

I giggle and grab the plate which he kindly offers. He informs me that there’s also cereal and orange juice and he’s about to cook eggs. I thank him and grab some juice and cereal, finding a seat at the table, next to Carl. 

“Holy crap are those frosted flakes?” Carl asks, his eyes big and wide. His hair is a mess and there’s a sleep mark on his cheek. I giggle at him and nod. “I didn’t know there was Frosted Flakes! I got Cheerios,” he says, disappointed, spinning the cereal around in his bowl. 

“Do you wanna trade?” I ask, pushing my bowl over to him. He nods frantically and we switch bowls. Immediately he starts shoveling it in his mouth.

“What do you say?” Lori asks him.

“Thank you,” he says, cheeks full as he smiles.

Glenn enters, scratching his messy head. “Good morning,” I say and he grunts in response, pulling out a chair next to Dale. 

Next in is Rick, who grabs a chair next to his wife. “Morning,” he says. 

“Are you hungover?” Carl blurts, a mischievous smile growing on his face. “Mom said you’d be.”

“Mom is right,” he responds.

“Mom has that annoying habit,” Lori says, taking a bite of her bacon. 

“Eggs. Powdered, but I do ‘em good,” T-Dog says, carrying his pan over to the table. Glenn groans in response and Jacqui begins to rub his shoulders. “I bet you can’t tell,” T-Dog continues. “Protein helps the hangover,” he says, spooning Glenn some eggs, then everyone else. 

“Thanks T,” I mumble as he serves me some. I’m still sleepy. 

“No problem kiddo.”

“Where’d all this come from,” Rick asks, holding up a bottle of aspirin. 

“Jenner,” Lori answers, before opening it to give Rick some. “He thought we could use it. Some of us at least.” She looks at Glenn, pointedly. 

“Don’t ever ever ever let me drink again,” he says, head still hung over his plate. I make eye contact with Jacqui and we both giggle. 

After breakfast, Jenner leads us to the main room. Since our arrival we’ve all been curious about his knowledge of the walkers. I think he plans to tell us now.

“Give me playback of TS-19,” he instructs the virtual assistant, as we all file in. “Few people ever got to see this...very few.”

The screen lights up as the data loads and an X-Ray of someone's skull appears. 

“Is that a brain?” Carl asks.

“A very extraordinary one… not that it matters in the end,” Jenner responds. “Bring us in for E.I.V.”

“Enhanced internal view,” the assistant says. The screen zooms in. There’s tons of green and blue lights flashing, intertwining and just...moving, inside the brain. It’s beautiful.

“What is all that? Those lights?” I ask Jenner. He turns and looks at me, smiling a bit. 

“It’s a person’s life. Experiences, memories--it’s everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light… is you,” he says, pointing right at me. “The thing that makes you unique, and human. 

“You don’t make sense ever?” Daryl asks.

“Those are synapses--electrical impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says, does, or thinks, from the moment of birth to the moment of death,” he finishes, looking just as encapsulated as all of us. 

“Death? That’s what this is, a vigil?” Rick asks.

“Yes. Or rather the playback of the vigil.” 

“This person died?” Andrea asks. “Who?”

“Test subject 19,” Jenner responds. “Someone who was bitten and infected and volunteered to let us record the process.”

“We’re gonna see them turn into a walker?” I whisper to Glenn, nervous with anticipation. 

“Y-yeah,” he says, still looking at the screen, “yeah I think so.”

“Scan forward to the first event,” Jenner instructs his assistant, and the screen begins to load again. 

What was on the screen before was what I would assume to be a healthy brain. The lights were moving super fast--bright and colorful and alive. Now over half the brain has been taken up by a nasty black virus, coming up from the stem. In that part of the brain, it’s dark and the lights are gone--dead.

“What is that?” Glenn exclaims. 

“It invades the brain like meningitis,” Jenner explains, “the adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown, then the major organs,” as he says this, the dark spindrally virus takes over the rest of the brain. And it all goes black. “Then death… everything you ever were or ever will be… gone.”

“Is that what happened to Jim?” Sophia asks Carol, her voice soft with childish curiosity.

“Yes,” Carol answers, tucking a strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear. 

Everything’s quiet...solem. No one knows what to say. Andrea seems like she might cry and Jenner notices. 

“She lost somebody two days ago--her sister,” Lori explains. 

“I lost somebody too, I know how devastating it is,” Jenner says. We all do, I want to add.

Jenner tells his assistant to scan to the second event. I almost forgot that there’s more--that people come back now, sort of. 

“The resurrection times vary wildly,” he says. “We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient it was two hours, one minute, and seven seconds. 

Suddenly the brain begins to light up again. Just a little though--right at the stem of the brain--red.

“It restarts the brain?” Lori asks, exasperated. 

“No, just the brain stem,” Jenner answers. “Basically, it gets them up and moving.” 

“But they’re not alive?” Rick says, sure. Because of course not...right? Jenner isn’t so sure. 

“You tell me,” he says.

“It’s nothing like before. Most of that brain is dark,” he says. 

“Dark, lifeless, dead,” Jenner says, agreeing. “The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the you part--that doesn’t come back. Just a shell driven by mindless instinct. 

The thing begins moving, twitching, probably… growling. Suddenly what appears to be a bullet slices through the skull, taking out the red brain stem and returning the brain to darkness. 

“God what was that,” Carol says. And there’s a moment of silence. 

“You shot them in the head,” I say, looking up at Jenner.

“Power down the main screen and the work stations,” he says, ignoring me.

“You have no idea what it is, do you,” Andrea asks, crossing her arms. 

“It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal-”

“Or the wrath of God?” Jacqui suggests. 

“There is that…”

“Somebody must know something,” Andrea says, desperate, “somebody, somewhere.”

“There are others right? Other facilities?” Carol asks but from the look on his face I can tell there’s nothing else for us to know. This TS-19 “vigil” is as close as the CDC got to figuring this thing out. There’s nothing else he can tell us.

“There may be some...people like me,” Jenner says.

“But you don’t know?” Rick asks. “How could you not know?”

“Everything went down--communications, directives--all of it. I’ve been in the dark for almost a month.”

“So it’s not just here?” Andrea says. “There’s nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That’s what you’re really saying, right?”

And with that there’s a tense silence. Jenner has nothing to say which confirms that yes, there isn’t anything left anywhere. Andrea is right.

“Jesus.”

“Man, I’m gonna get shit-faced drunk… again.” 

“Dr. Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to ask one more question, but… that clock,” Dale says, pointing to the big electronic clock on the wall. The time has been counting down since we got here and now that Dale is pointing it out, it kind of looks like the timer to a bomb. “It’s counting down...what happens at zero?”

Jenner looks trapped--like he’s been dreading this question since we stepped in the building. “The basement generators--they run out of fuel,” he answers, now looking nonchalant. But this isn’t nonchalant. 

“What?!” I say. Because literally, what he fuck.

“And then?” Rick asks, but Jenner walks off, refusing to answer. Rick decides to ask the assistant himself, “What happens when the power runs out?”

“When the power runs out, facility wide decontamination will occur,” she answers and

I’m following Rick, Shane, and Glenn down a flight of stairs.

“Decontamination-,” Glenn starts, out of breath, “what does that mean?”

“It means we all need to get the hell out of here,” I respond, the motion lights flickering on. 

“I don’t like the way Jenner clammed up. The way he just wandered off like that,” Shane says.

“Why can’t he just tell us what’s going on?” I say, reaching the bottom of the steps. 

We stop in front of a map, looking for the power room or whatever it’s called. Rick points to the right with his flashlight, “in there,” and we all follow him.

The place is industrial, with white floors and ceilings, and large metal tubes that crawl throughout. It looks like the lower class rooms in the Titanic, which is fitting because it feels like we’re sinking.

“Come on,” Glenn says as we split in two. There’s oil drums all over the place but they’re empty--no fuel left in the whole place. There’s a bunch of generators but they’re either empty or completely dead. All of a sudden the lights go out. 

“What the heck?” I say, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Emergency lighting on,” says the computer over the intercom. 

I follow behind Glenn as he runs to find Shane and Rick. “Hey, you guys kill the lights?” he asks. 

“Nah, it just went out,” Shane responds, leaning over an oil drum. 

“Anything?” Rick asks, not sounding very hopeful.

“Just a bunch of dead generators,” Glenn responds. 

“And more empty fuel drums,” I add, defeated.

“It can’t be down to just that one,” Shane says, flashlight pointing at the fuel gauge of the generator that’s running. It’s past empty. 

“We’ve gotta get back up there,” Rick says. 

“Yeah,” I agree, before breaking into a sprint and leading the others back up the stairs. 

When we reach the top Jenner is coming down into the main room and the rest of our people are following behind him. 

“Jenner, what’s happening,” Rick demands, falling into a fast pace beside him. 

“The system is dropping all the nonessential uses of power,” he responds, too calm. “It’s designed to keep the computers running until the last possible second. That started as we approached the half-hour mark.” He points up to the clock which reads 31:28, “right on schedule.” 

God, he’s so fucking vague! I wish he would just tell us what the hells going on.

He stops in front of the computers and looks back at us. We all stand in silence and watch him, waiting for him to say something… anything. I’m not waiting any longer. 

“What the hell is happening here, Jenner?!” He stares at me for a moment and the look in his eye is sour, it makes me feel itchy--uncomfortable. 

“Same thing that happened to the French,” he says, like this is all some big show. “They were the closest to finding out what this whole thing means but just like here they ran out of juice.” He walks up on the platform, hands in his pockets. “The world runs on fossil fuels. Isn’t that stupid,” he chuckles. 

Yeah asshole, I can tell you something that’s stupid.

“Let me tell you-” Shane starts, like he might punch him, but Rick interrupts. 

“To hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care. Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

Everyone rushes to cooperate. I look at Glenn, silently telling him I’ll pack up and he nods back. But just as I begin heading to our room, an alarm begins to blare and our situation feels that much more scary. 

“30 minutes to decontamination,” says the computer, and the clock begins to countdown on the main screen.

“Doc, what’s going on here?” T-Dog yells. 

“Everybody, y’all heard Rick! Get your stuff and let’s go! Go!” Shane yells and I'm sprinting to the doors. But just before I can get there, they close--huge and cold and metal--right in my face. I look back and Glenn’s eyes are wide.

“Did you just lock us in?” he asks. “He just locked us in!”

I can't bring myself to move. We’re stuck in here. We’re stuck and we can’t get out. 

Everyone's freaking out--shouting and crying and stunned into silence. Daryl’s attacking Jenner, Rick is pulling him off, and I still can’t move. I’m gonna cry or throw up or something, I'm not sure what. Glenn walks towards me, looking sympathetic.

“We’re trapped, Glenn, we’re trapped. We’re never gonna get out. We’re gonna be...decontaminated or whatever that means. What does that mean, Glenn? What’s gonna happen to us!?”

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe Vi, breathe. We’re gonna get out of here,” he says, leaning down to my height and grabbing my face. 

“How?! Glenn how?” I cry. 

“I don't know, okay? But we’re gonna be fine, just calm down.” He’s hugging me now--holding my head against his chest--and if anything, my breathing slows.

There’s shouting and I break away from Glenn to see. “You know what this place is!” Jenner yells, now standing up from his chair. “We protected the public from very nasty stuff! Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don’t want getting out! Ever!”Jenner screams, spitting he’s yelling so hard. 

Everyone stares at him--realization sinking in as we figure out what this means. 

“In the event of a catastrophic power failure, in a terrorist attack for example,” he continues, “H.I.T.s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out.”

“H.I.T.s?” Rick asks

“Define H.I.T.s,” he tells the computer, and everyone is holding their breath. 

“High-impulse thermobaric fuel-air explosives consist of a two-stage aerosol ignition that produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration that any other known explosive except nuclear.”

I sink back into Glenn, tears already spilling from my eyes. I don’t want to die. Not yet. 

“The vacuum pressure effect ignites the oxygen at between 5,000 and 6,000 degrees and is useful when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired.”

I can’t breathe, not at all. I feel like it’s going to explode right now--right underneath me. I’m not ready to die. Not here, not yet. Glenn is holding me so tight I feel like my shoulders could snap but I don’t want to let go. Glenn is the only thing holding me down right now. 

After a while he sits me down next to Lori and I cuddle into her side. The men try to open the door. They won’t be able to, but at least they’re trying. They’d rather go out fighting, I guess.

“You should’ve left well enough alone. It would’ve been so much easier,” Jenner says, and I could punch him. 

“Easier for who?” Lori spits. 

“All of you, you know what’s out there. A short brutal life and an agonizing death,” he says, like he’s trying to win us over--it’s sick. “Your--your sister, what was her name?” he asks Andrea.

“Amy,” she answers, looking like she actually believes what this prick is saying.

“Amy…” he repeats, sympathetically. “You know what this does. You’ve seen it.” He looks over at Rick. “is this really what you want for your wife and son?”

“I don’t want this,” he says, and the fervor in his voice is exactly what I feel coursing through me. We don’t deserve this. Our people deserve to go out with a fight, not forced to cower in here and wait out our death. I’m not ready to die here. 

“Can’t make a dent,” Shane says, appearing next to us, bent over and breathing heavy. 

“Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher,” Jenner puts. 

“Well, you head ain’t!” Daryl shouts, coming out of nowhere, axe drawn over his shoulder. 

“Whoa! Daryl!” everyone shouts. Lori grabs me, covering me from it. 

“Back up! Just back up!” Rick yells, as him, Dale, and T-Dog restrain him, kicking and shouting. I don’t even blame Daryl though, if I had it in me, I’d do the same. 

“You do want this,” Jenner says, standing from his chair. “Last night you said you knew it was just a matter of time before everybody you loved was dead.” And that… holy shit. I can’t really fault Rick because I’ve felt similar but it’s hard to hear that coming from our leaders mouth.

“What? You really said that?” Shane asks, pissed. “After all your big talk?”

“I had to keep hope alive, didn’t I?” He says, looking at me and Lori. But now everything feels fake. Not even our own leader has faith in us.

“There is no hope, there never was,” Jenner continues and that’s it, I’ve finally had enough, I’m not gonna let him sit there and kill us all. 

“What is it with you?” I spit, my voice hoarse from the tears. I stand up from my spot, knees shaking a little. “Stop acting like you’re doing us all a favor. We don’t want this! Stop trying to convince us to kill ourselves!”

“Violet, everything is gone, why can’t-” Andrea starts, and I love her and all but I’m on a rampage and everything is coming down with me.

“Yeah maybe to you! I don’t want to die here…“ I suck in a nose full of tears, and face Jenner, a snarl in my throat. “I am not gonna get blown to bits just because you don’t want to go out alone.”

“Darling, this is our extinction event. There’s nothing left for us here,” I shake my head but there’s nothing else to say. This man is sick and I just can’t convince him. 

Glenn comes up next to me and pulls me into his side. I give up and lay my head into his chest. 

“This isn’t right,” Carol says through her tears. “You can’t just keep us here.”

“One tiny moment--a millisecond--no pain,” Jenner tries.

“My daughter doesn’t deserve to die like this.”

“Wouldn’t it be kinder… more compassionate even, just to hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?” 

Just as he’s saying this ridiculous drivel there’s a gun cock behind me. Shane has his shotgun and he’s angry. Glenn and I back up.

“Shane, no!” Rick yells, but he won’t have it.

“Get out of my way, Rick!” He points his shotgun point blank at Jenner’s head. “Open that door or I’m gonna blow your head off! Do you hear me?!” he orders. 

Rick is trying to convince him, but Shane doesn’t look like he’s moving. All of a sudden he begins screaming and I’m sure Jenner’s head is coming off. I bury my face in Glenn and cover my ears as the blasts come: one, two, and finally three. There’s a hush and I open my eyes to find a line of computers shattered and sparks falling from the ceiling. Jenner is fine, though I’m not sure I’m relieved. 

Rick is leaning over Shane, who’s on the floor. He has Shane’s shotgun in his hands, wielding it to hit, “are you done now?” he asks.

“Yeah I guess we all are,” he spits back.

Rick hands T-Dog the shotgun and there’s a silence. Everyone is breathing heavy, unsettled from Shane’s outburst. We’re unsure of what to do next, so we all stare at Rick. 

“I think you’re lying,” he starts and I still don’t know how he plans to get us out of here, “about no hope. If that were true you would have bolted with the rest, or taken the easy way out. You didn't, you chose the hard path. Why?”

“It doesn't matter,” Jenner says, dismissively. 

“It does matter! It always matters.” Rick pushes. “You stayed when others ran. Why?”

“Not because I wanted to...I made a promise to her,” he says, pointing up at the big screen. “My wife.” 

“Test Subject 19 was your wife,” Lori says, coming to the same conclusion as the rest of us. 

“She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no?” Jenner claims. “She was dying. It should have been me on that table, it wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world! Hell, she ran this place, I just worked here! In our field she was an Einstein--but me? I’m just Edwin Jenner... She could have done something about this. Not me.” 

“Your wife didn't have a choice, you do. That's all we want. A choice, a chance,” Rick finishes, his eyes begging--pleading. 

“Let us keep trying as long as we can,” Lori says, her voice but a whisper as she holds Carl tightly in front of her. They both look so small… I probably look the same. 

Jenner sighs. “I told you topside’s locked down--I can’t open those,” he says. Everyone looks up from their spots--hopeful. Jenner scans his keycard on something and suddenly the doors are opening. Holy fucking shit. 

“Let’s go!” Daryl yells, and we all follow behind, Glenn grabbing my arm as we run. 

We all reach the hallway and stop. Jenner is saying something in Rick's ear and he’s nodding--they’re both nodding.

“Hey! We’ve got four minutes left, come on!” Glenn yells from beside me. Jacqui and T-Dog make their way towards us but Jacqui pushes him away. 

“No, I’m staying,” she says. “I’m staying, sweetie.” She looks terrified.

“What? That’s insane!” T-Dog yells, trying to grab onto her but she won’t have it.

“No, it’s completely sane. For the first time in a long time,” she’s strong in her words. She’s made her decision and it’s final. “I’m not ending up like Jim and Amy… there’s no time to argue and no point, not if you wanna get out.”

“Come on Violet,” Glenn says softly, grabbing my arm, “we’ve gotta go.”

We rush up the stairs two at a time. Everyone’s huffing and puffing. The gun bag slams heavily on Shane’s shoulders. We finally reach the ground floor but I have no idea how much time is left on the clock. Glenn and I run up to the doors, banging and pushing but they won’t budge. Daryl and Shane hit the windows with axes but they aren’t even leaving a scratch. I back away from what’s in front of me as T-Dog hits the window with a chair. I doubt we’re getting out of here. 

“Get down everybody,” Shane says, shotgun ready. I bend down and cover my ears. He fires and it rings crazy through the building, but the glass is still intact.

“The glass won’t break?” Sophia cries and it’s looking like it. 

“Rick,” Carol calls, digging into her bag, “I have something that might help. Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket,” she says, pulling a fucking grenade out of her god damn purse. Dear lord, praise Carol!

Rick grabs it and we all duck for cover. Glenn holds me around the shoulders and there’s a stifling quiet before Rick yells.

“Oh shit-” he starts and then there’s a boom like I’ve never heard before. 

I’m left stunned on the floor for a minute--unable to move--when Glenn grabs me by the arm and yanks me up. He yells something but I can’t hear him over all the ringing. Despite, I stumble to my feet, sprinting--disoriented--out the blasted window. There’s only a few walkers milling about outside and the group takes them out easily enough. Glenn continues to lead me to safety. My head is too fuzzy to think. 

We all but jump into the RV as Rick rushes to start the thing. Everyone’s shouting and pointing and all I can do is stare. Rick shoots up from his chair and pushes us all back. 

“Everybody back! Everybody down! Down!” he yells and we all fall onto the floor. Grabbing onto anything and everybody--holding on for dear life. 

This explosion is nothing like the grenade. This one is huge--I swear it’s shaking the Earth at its core. This explosion is red and hot and brutal. I can feel it deep in my bones. 

When it finally ends, after what feels like hours, we sit up. It’s so bright it burns my eyes to look at. I can hardly believe what I’m seeing.

“Come on, get in, get in,” I hear. Glenn has the door open and is beckoning for Andrea and Dale to get inside. 

We all stare at the aftermath for a moment--heads sweating as we breathe heavily.

Rick shifts the RV into gear and I know that he's thinking exactly what I am. 

We got out of there, but now what?


	5. untouched

Fort Benning--125 miles. What would have been an easy day trip a few months ago, is now a tiresome journey. One that has to be planned out to the T if we ever plan to get there in one piece. 

We found a place to regroup after the explosion--a small lot just outside the city. In an effort to save fuel, we’ve cut all vehicles except for the RV, Carol’s Jeep Cherokee, and of course Daryl’s motorcycle. 

Now, I sit next to Glenn in the front seat of the RV. We’re looking at the map--the long red sharpie line marking our path to Fort Benning. We’re taking freeways mostly which feels dangerous but it’s the quickest route. 

I reach into my bag to find a book. Thankfully, Carol grabbed the ratty napsack for me amidst the chaos at the CDC. Everything is still intact, save for a few broken colored pencils, but all those need is a good sharpening, of course.

I’m on chapter 3 of Huckleberry Finn when Glenn gasps. I look up.

“Shit,” I say. There’s a terrible block up, ahead. Dozens of cars fill the road--I doubt our big R.V. will be able to weave through it. Daryl, having just been up there, pulls next to us.

“See a way through?” Dale asks, and Daryl beckons him to come on.

“Uh, maybe we should just go back,” Glenn suggests, sounding anxious. “There’s an interstate bypass-.” But Dale cuts him off. 

“We can’t spare the fuel,” he says, following Daryl through the maze of abandoned cars. Some are tipped over, others crashed into the median, but the ones that freak me out the most are still inhabited by the corpses of their former drivers, though I can’t tell whether they are truly dead or not.

Nervous from the possibility of walkers, I jump clear out of my seat when a loud pop and hiss comes from the engine. What the fuck?! But it’s only the radiator hose. The darn thing has give out once again. 

Dale parks with an aggravated grunt and leaves the vehicle. We all follow behind him--Glenn, Andrea, Shane, and I. 

“I said it--didn’t I say it? A thousand times. Dead in the water,” he retorts. “I can’t believe that again we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of-,” he cuts himself off, realizing that it would be especially easy to find a radiator hose here--we could probably find 50. “Okay, that was dumb.”

“If you can’t find a radiator hose here...” Shane starts.

“There’s a whole bunch of stuff we can find,” Daryl claims, already digging through the trunk of the car in front of us. 

“I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start,” T-Dog adds.

“Maybe some more water.”

“Or food,” I say, properly excited. This feels almost like a free for all. There’s no telling how much supplies we’ll find.

“This is a graveyard,” Lori says, looking uneasy. And she’s right, people have died here--some of which, still sitting in their cars. I’m not very excited anymore. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“We really need the supplies,” I say quietly, looking up at her. She nods knowingly. 

“Come on y'all just look around, gather what you can,” Shane says. 

Everyone starts to move and I look up at Glenn. “I’m gonna help Dale with the RV,” he says. “You look around, find us some goodies.” He smiles and reaches into his waistband for his gun. “Be careful though, keep your eyes open,” he reminds me sternly, before pressing the cool metal into my hand. 

I decide to stick near Lori and Carol, figuring they might need some extra cover if the time comes. I pick a car and start digging. In the trunk, I find two bottles of water, a box of crackers, some baby wipes, and a bunch of clothes--I skim for anything my size but come up short. There are some mens t-shirts and socks though, which I grab for Glenn. After clearing the trunk, I head to the front seat. But when I reach for the door handle I stop in my tracks--there’s two dead ones there, heads tilted back awkwardly and mouths agape. The flies and the smell is awful. I creak open the passenger door slowly, gun heavy in my hand, as I hope they’re actually dead dead. When I do the corpse falls from the vehicle and lands heavy on the asphalt. 

“Ah!” I scream, my gun pointed shakily at the body, but it doesn't move. Thank god. 

“What happened?!” Carl shouts, coming from behind a neighboring car. “Eww.”

“Sweetie, are you alright,” Lori asks, worriedly, a t-shirt slung over her shoulder.  
I struggle to slow my breathing, a bit embarrassed that I caused a scene. “Y-yeah, I’m fine,” I confirm, stepping over the body cautiously and setting my gun on the dash of the car. She gives me a sympathetic look and disappears again.

The body in the other seat doesn’t move, thankfully, and I’m able to search the rest of the car easily enough. There isn’t much in the console--a bunch of napkins, a half used chapstick, and some pens--I take the pens but nothing else. In the glove compartment though is a flashlight (with batteries!), and a pack of matches. Right as I’m leaving the vehicle, I take an uncontrollable glance at the driver, who I had been trying to ignore, and notice a bulge in his shirt pocket. Curiosity gets the best of me and I reach over to him. Grabbing the soft package in his pocket, his head lolls forward and I yank my hand away. I stare a moment but he doesn’t move again. With a huff I look down at what I’ve found--cigarettes, menthols to be exact. The pack is almost completely full too--score. 

“What’s that?” Sophia asks, coming out of nowhere. She effectively scares the crap out of me.

“Jesus!” I say, holding the cigarettes over my heart. “Don’t sneak up on people like that.”

“Sorry,” she says shortly, clutching her doll to her chest. I notice she’s wearing a t-shirt with a rainbow on it--cute. “Why do you have those?” she asks, staring at the cigarettes in my fist. “They’re bad for you ya’ know. You’ll die.”

I sigh. “Everyone dies eventually, Sophia,” I retort, jumping down off the seat. I zip the pack into the front pocket of my bag and sling it over my shoulder, ready to head to another car. 

“Well my mom says-,” she starts but I’m not listening. I see Rick behind her, looking panicked as he weaves through the cars. 

“Lori! Under the cars!” I hear him say and there, just a couple cars away, is a group of a least 3 dozen walkers. I grab Sophia’s arm. 

“Sophia, go now,” I say, pushing her underneath the truck next to us. 

“Wha-,” she starts. “Go! Now!,” I whisper yell. And I’m following her underneath the vehicle, my hands already shaking. Carl crawls under the car next to us and Rick under the one next to him.

The growling becomes closer and closer until we can see their feet walking past. I cover my mouth--terrified I’m breathing too loud. The corpse that fell out of the car earlier is staring at me, her dead eyes set deep in the sockets. I feel the brush of Sophia’s shirt on my arm and jump a bit. I’m so terrified. God. Sophia looks at me and I can see it in her eyes too--the fear--and I grab her hand, squeezing it as tight as I can.

I hope Glenn is okay. If anything, let him be okay. He was helping Dale with the RV, maybe he saw the walkers in time and hid… or maybe he was one of the first to go. Jesus.

Eventually the growling quiets down and it seems like they’re all gone. I look over at the corpse on the ground and it’s still there, staring at me. I’ve got to get out from under here. Sophia looks at me, silently asking if it’s clear now and I nod, but then, out of nowhere, a walker trips over the body and it falls thick on its face. It sees us now, lying defenseless on the asphalt, and begins to growl. 

“Shit! Go, Sophia, go!” I cry, pushing her to the other side of the truck. I kick at the walker’s hands as they swipe at us and scurry out onto my feet. There’s a cry from Sophia and I see another walker coming around the back of the truck. I reach for my gun and it’s not there. Then I reach for my knife and it’s not there either. Shit.

I grab Sophia’s arm and we run, sliding down the shoulder of the road and into the woods. The walkers growl and stumble behind us--too close.

We push through brush and branches, running as fast as our bodies will go. I’m not sure how I plan for us to survive this--hopefully we’ll outrun them, but with the way my legs are cramping, I’m not sure we’ll make it. They growl nasty, hot on our trail and somehow getting closer and closer. I look behind me to check their position and suddenly my foot isn’t touching the ground and I fall. 

Water splashes around me and dirt fills my mouth. I can hear Sophia calling for me from above. I whip my head out from underneath the water, breathing deeply and coughing up murky liquid. Sophia is standing on top of the hill, looking down at me, terrified. 

“Violet! Are you okay?” She cries, glancing behind herself frantically.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I respond, trying to stand in the shallow pool, before collapsing as I put weight on my right ankle. “Fuck!” I yell. It’s broken, I can just tell. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“My ankle, it’s broken Sophia… I can’t.” And the look on her face is terrible--it rips me to pieces. 

There’s a growl from behind her and she begins to whimper, “Violet!” she cries, and I don’t know what to do. 

“Run, Sophia! Go, just go!” And with a frightened glance at me she takes off. The walkers go to follow her but I won’t have that. 

“Hey! Hey you!” I shout, splashing the water around me. They look at me lying helplessly in the pond and immediately turn their attention, falling into the water with a splash. “Come on! Come get me you disgusting freaks,” I say, tears already welling in my eyes. I’m so scared that even if my ankle was fine there is no way I could stand. I push back away from them, dirt and mud filling my pants pockets, and can’t help but start to whimper. 

I reach the muddy wall of the pond and try to scramble up it, crying out as I attempt to use my broken ankle. The walkers are growing closer, only a few feet away now and I just can’t seem to reach anything to pull myself out. I’m stuck here, right at the edge of this murky puddle and there’s absolutely nothing I can do to get out. “Fuck you!” I yell helplessly, tears brimming my eyes. The geeks only growl back, reaching out their hands to grab at me. “No! No!” I scream, scrambling to grab onto the dirt of the bank and finding a root--not that it will help. Their hands find my ankles as I spot something in the trees--Rick. His eyes are wide with terror and he’s sprinting for me.

“Rick!” I cry as the root I’m holding onto gives way in the loose dirt. His hand seems so far away but I outstretch mine anyway, screaming as I fall. Rick lunges for me, landing halfway over the ledge as he catches my arm. 

“Gahh!” he cries, as he pulls me from the walkers’ grip, and over the edge of the bank. I push myself up and crawl away from it quickly, scared I might somehow fall back in. I stare at Rick, breathing heavy, and he stares back at me. Then his face becomes muddy like the pond and my head feels way too heavy. 

“Violet?” I hear, before my head lolls back and I’m out. 

\---

I wake to a soft hand brushing my hair. I’m laying on the bed in the back of the RV and Lori sits above me, a small frown on her face.

“Hi,” she says, head tilted to the side--sympathetic. 

“Wha… what happened?” I ask, sitting up. I’m still a bit drowsy and my elbows wiggle underneath my weight. 

“Well you fell and hurt your ankle but Rick carried you back,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now, lie back down, you need to rest.” She pushes on my shoulder a bit but I don’t move.

“Sophia. What happened to Sophia?” 

Lori makes a face. “She’s fine, Violet, just lie down.”

“No, where is she?” I press, but she won’t answer. So, I move around her to get up.

“Violet, be careful, you don’t need to put any weight on that ankle,” she says, just as I hiss in pain from standing on it. “See?” But I don’t care. I’m getting out of this RV. 

I get onto my feet--or foot rather--and begin hopping towards the door.

“Violet…” She starts, before coming up behind me and grabbing my arm.

“Lori!” I say, aggravated, very close to slapping her hand off of me. 

“Woah, babe relax, I’m trying to help you,” she informs me, pulling my arm over her shoulder.

“O-oh, sorry,” I apologize, and she helps me out of the RV. As I’m coming down the steps Glenn appears. Thank god he’s okay. He looks nervous to see me but relieved nonetheless. 

“Violet! Oh my god,” he starts, picking me up off the bottom step as he hugs me. “I’m so glad you’re alright--what are you doing up?”

“I had to see if Sophia was alright. Where is she?” Before he can respond, Rick and Daryl are emerging from the edge of the woods. They’re tired looking and sweaty. Blood is covering half of Rick’s shirt. 

As Glenn helps me over to them, I begin to make out what they’re saying.

“She’s twelve, she can’t be out there on her own,” Carol exclaims, tearful. “You didn’t find anything?” I can’t believe it. Sophia is still out there. It’s getting late now and the sun is setting.

“I know this is hard, but I’m asking you not to panic. We know she was out there,” Rick tries but even I’m panicking. I can’t imagine how Carol feels. 

“We tracked her for a while,” Daryl adds.

“We have to make this an organized effort. Daryl knows the woods better than anybody, I’ve asked him to oversee this.”

Carol begins to hyperventilate and she sits down. Then her fearful expression turns angry. “How could you just leave her out there to begin with?” she spouts at Rick.

Because of me. 

“Violet passed out and she needed help. I couldn’t leave her out there unconscious,” he says, looking over to me but I’m staring at the asphalt. 

“So you left my daughter instead?!” she cries.

“Sounds like he didn’t have a choice, Carol,” Shane says and I don’t know if he’s trying to diffuse this but it’s not helping. 

“How was she supposed to find her way back on her own? She’s just a child, Rick, she’s just a child,” she says, her voice only a whisper. Rick bends down to her level. He’s trying so hard but this entire situation is just terrible. 

“It was my only option,” he says. “The only choice I could make.”

Carol doesn’t know what to say--no one does. Andrea goes to sit beside her, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. And I might cry… I’m definitely going to cry. I pull away as I try to hide my tears, but Glenn notices.

“Hey…” he starts and that just makes me cry more. “It’s not your fault,” he tries, but he wasn’t out there, he doesn’t know what happened, I do. I shake my head no but he doesn’t respond. I just cry and cry and he does his best to comfort me. 

I give Carol the bed that night. She’s hesitant at first because of my ankle, but I convince her she’s more hurt than I am. It’s the least I can do. 

\---

Everyone’s up bright and early the next morning to start looking for Sophia. I’m sitting on the steps of the RV, watching as everyone gets ready to head out. 

“Everybody takes a weapon,” Rick says, slamming a tote full of machetes and hatchets onto the hood of Carol's jeep. 

“These aren’t the kind of weapons we need,” Andrea complains. “What about the guns?”

“We’ve been over that,” Shane says. “Rick, Daryl, and I are carrying. Can’t have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles.”

Nobody has guns except for them three now. Dale went around and collected them all last night--said we needed to have them all accounted for, for the groups safety of course. I’m not sure how I feel about it but I trust Rick and he seems fine with it. 

“It’s not the trees I’m worried about,” Andrea adds.

“Say somebody fires at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. See, then it’s game over for all of us. So you need to get over it,” Shane retorts, slinging his pack over his shoulder. 

Glenn is clearly not bothered by the change, though. He picks up a weapon that looks kind of like a machete and wows at it--spinning it in his hands.

“Look!” he mouths to me with excited eyes. I giggle at him and nod--he’s such a kid. 

“The idea is to take the creek up about five miles, then turn around and come back down the other side,” Daryl informs everyone. “Chances are she’ll be by the creek. It’s her only landmark.”

“Stay quiet and stay sharp. Keep space between you but always stay within sight of each other.”

“Assemble your groups,” Shane says, and everyone splits off to do so. 

Glenn walks up to me before he leaves. “Hey,” he starts. He knows I’m grumpy about not being able to go, so he doesn’t know what to say. “You gonna be nice for Dale?” he asks, and I grunt in response. “Well, just be careful, don’t get into anything, alright? And rest your ankle, you need to be up and walking as soon as possible.” I look up at him and roll my eyes--he laughs. “Love you,” he says, kissing the crown of my head.

“Love you too,” I reply and then he’s gone. 

I’m sitting on top of the RV later, my foot resting on my backpack. It’s really nice up here--the breeze is great. I’m drawing Dale as he stands, binoculars over his eyes and rifle hanging on his shoulder. I’m putting him in a mountain scape though, where he should be--not here in this nasty highway blockup. 

“Ain’t you supposed to be fixing that radiator?” T-Dog asks, his words a bit slurry. He cut his arm real bad when that herd came through yesterday--I’m sure he's on some kind of medicine for the pain, that or he’s got a fever. “What if they come back with Sophia and Rick wants to move on right away?” T-Dog says, but I know the radiator is already fixed, Glenn told me last night. I thought everybody knew that. 

“I had it fixed yesterday,” Dale says. 

“What was all that rubbing and sanding for then? Just bullshit?”

“Yeah that’s one word. Another word would be pantomime--just for show. No one else needs to know that,” he says, looking at T-Dog, then me. “If the others know we’re mobile they’ll want to move on.”

“You don’t think they’re gonna find Sophia?” I ask, head peeking out from my notebook.

“No, I’m just guarding against the worst is all. Sooner or later, if she’s not found, people will start doing math. I want to hold the needs-of-the-many-vs-the-needs-of-the-few arguments as long as long as I can.”

T-Dog squints at Dale before smirking a bit. “That is one tricky hose, huh?” he says, and Dale smiles. 

“Very.”

Later, I’m laying in the bed of one of the trucks, my head resting on my hand. I feel like a sleepy dog in the sunshine. Dale and T-Dog are going through the cars again, looking for medicine. The cut on T-Dog’s arm is super infected, if he goes too much longer without antibiotics he could die, which is really scary. I wish I could help them look but Dale won’t let me, says I need to rest. I’m sure he’s right but it doesn’t make me feel any better. 

I hear footsteps and peep one eye open--Dale’s walking towards me holding a guitar. “Found some batteries, a bottle of very trendy pink water, an excellent new machete, and this guitar...do you know if Glenn plays?” he asks.

I stare at the instrument--it’s pretty but definitely well-loved. I almost forgot guitars existed, which seems crazy but with the way things are, music has been the last thing on my mind. 

“Nah, he doesn’t but I do,” I say, squinting at him through the setting sun. 

His face lights up a bit. “Oh really? Here.” He hands me the guitar and I attempt to strum a chord but it comes out ugly.

“Definitely needs to be tuned,” I laugh, already fiddling with the knobs.

T-Dog’s infection is getting worse. He’s been spouting all kids of crazy shit for the past hour or so. He’s leaning against the RV now--a blanket over his shoulders, despite the Georgia heat. I’m worried about him.  
There’s shuffling in the edge of the woods just as the sun is setting. Glenn appears from the trees first--then Carol, Daryl, and Andrea. Rick, Shane, Lori, and Carl aren’t with them. Neither is Sophia. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Dale yells to them. 

“Shane, Rick, and Carl split off a few hours ago. Lori was with us but Carl’s been shot,” Glenn answers. 

I sit up straight in the truck, my heart jumping in my chest. “Shot?!” I cry. 

“What do you mean shot?” Dale asks as well.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there,” Glenn says, a bit out of breath as he climbs over the guard rail. “All I know is this chick rode in out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and took Lori.” 

“You let her?” Dale asks.

“Climb down out of my asshole, man.” Daryl retorts. “Rick sent her. She knew Lori’s name and Carl’s.” With that Dale sorta walks off, not knowing what to say. 

Glenn spots me in the truck and a small smile pulls on his face. “Hey, peanut.” he says, pulling me into a side hug. “How was your day?”

“Boring,” I retort, and he laughs. “But Dale found me this guitar!” I run my fingers across the now tuned strings and he smiles. “Did ya’ll find anything?” I hate to ask but I need to know. 

His smile fades. “No. There wasn’t any sign of her.”

I sigh. “Well Carl’s shot and Sophia is still missing. Where do we go from here?”

“I really don’t know, Violet. That girl on the horse, she told us where the house was, that seems like the obvious next move.”

“I won’t do it. We can’t just leave here,” Carol speaks up. 

“Carol, the group is split. We’re scattered and weak,” Dale says.

“What if she comes back and we’re not here?” Carol asks frantically. 

“If Sophia managed to find her way back but we left her, that would be terrible,” I say. 

There’s a moment as everyone thinks. “Okay, we’ve gotta plan for this,” Daryl starts. “I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I’ll hold here tonight with the RV.”

“If the RV is staying then I am too,” Dale says. 

“I’m in,” Andrea adds. 

“Well since everyone else is staying,” Glenn says, agreeing to stay as well, but I’m confused. It sounds like this farm has some medical supplies but for some reason no one has mentioned anything about getting T-Dog there. If that man doesn’t get some antibiotics soon he’s gonna die. I would take him himself for god's sake but I can’t drive.

“Hold on, not everyone can stay here tonight. Someone needs to take T-Dog to this farm and get him some help. His cut is crazy infected. He needs antibiotics now,” I declare. Everyone looks around at each other for a moment before eyes land on Glenn. 

“Me? Why is it always me?” he cries. 

Dale sighs. “Violet needs someone to look at her ankle anyways, that thing is swollen to hell. It could be broke, sprained, or a number of other things,” he says. “Just go, please. You can take Carol’s cherokee.”

Glenn sighs but nods. 

It’s already dark by the time we head out and I manage to get myself pretty comfortable in the back seat--so much so that I’m almost upset when Glenn tells me we’ve arrived. 

“Wow,” I say as Glenn helps me out of the car. The house is gorgeous--a two story farmhouse with classic white paneling. Rocking chairs adorn the porch that I can guess wraps around the whole place. Beautiful. Completely untouched. 

“So, do we ring the bell?” Glenn asks, “I mean it looks like people live here.”

“I think we’re past being polite,” I say from my place on his back. 

“Damn right,” T-Dog agrees and heads towards the door. 

“Did you close the gate up the road when you drove in?” A voice asks. It’s a girl, only a few years older than me. She’s sitting in one of the rocking chairs--I don’t know how we didn’t see her. 

“Uh… hi,” Glenn starts. “Yes, we closed it. Did the latch and everything.” The girl sits up in the chair. As her face hits the light I can tell just how pretty she is--she has short brown hair and bright eyes. “Hello. Nice to see you again… we uh, met before briefly,” Glenn stutters out, sounding incredibly awkward. I snicker and bury my face in his shoulder. What an idiot. 

“Look, we came to help. There's nothing we can do?” T-Dog asks, sounding exhausted. The girl stands up, taking notice of his bandaged arm. “It’s not a bite. I cut myself pretty bad though.”

“We’ll have it looked at. I’ll tell them you’re here,” she says. 

“And uh, my sister, Violet, she hurt her ankle. Can’t walk on it,” Glenn adds and I pull up my pants leg to show her. 

“Alright then, come on inside. I’ll make you something to eat,” she says, before leading us into the house. 

“Can we see Carl first?” I ask, as the screen door slams behind us. The girl looks at me and nods, leading us into the door to our left. Carl is lying on the bed looking pale and incredibly small. Lori and Rick sit at his side. There’s a man on the bed taking his blood pressure, I suppose he’s the doctor. 

“Hey,” I say quietly. Breaking the somber silence of the room. 

They look up at us. “Hey,” Rick replies. His voice is hoarse--weak. 

“Um… we’re here, okay?” Glenn says. Lori thanks him.

“Whatever you need,” I add, and the girl leads us to the kitchen.

She warms over some soup on the stove--zucchini and carrots in what tastes like chicken broth--it’s delicious. She makes us coffee too, which doesn’t quite wake me up but it’s still nice, despite. They sew up T-Dog’s cut afterwards. ‘They’ as in the girl and another woman--I think her name’s Patricia. The poor man is a mess of hisses and moans through the whole thing but I don’t blame him. Patricia offers to take a look at my ankle afterwards. Glenn helps me to sit on the dining table so she can inspect it.

“This is one nasty bruise but you’re actually pretty lucky, I don’t think you broke it. See this here,” she points to the giant bulge on the right side of my ankle, “it’s hard to tell ‘cause of the swelling but that’s your ankle bone--it’s dislocated.”

“So can you fix it?” Glenn asks, sounding anxious.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’m just gonna need you to lay down real flat, hun,” she pushes at my shoulder and I do as she says. “Maggie, can you hold her leg for me?” The girl comes and grabs onto my calf, pressing it into the table. 

“This is gonna hurt isn’t it?” I ask, looking at the ceiling. My heart is a bit quick in my chest--I’m nervous.

There’s a moment of silence. “Yeah,” Maggie says, and when she does Patricia grips my ankle and pulls on it like nobody’s business. I grasp onto the table so hard I fear I might crack it as I cry out with gritted teeth. I’ve never felt pain like this in my life--it’s shooting up through my whole body. And then all of a sudden it’s only throbbing. My heart’s still racing but it doesn’t really hurt. 

“All done, you’re all done, breathe,” Maggie says soothingly. When I open my eyes I see stars--I must have been clenching them shut too. I lean up on my elbows and can tell my ankle already looks better.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” Patricia says. I smile and roll my eyes, falling back onto the table with a huff. 

Patricia fixes me a spot on the couch to rest. She’s wrapped my ankle in a bandage ‘for support’ and given me some ice and ibuprofen for the pain. Glenn went out on the porch and Maggie too I believe, so it’s just me. We’re all waiting for Shane and Otis, Patricia’s husband, to get back with the proper supplies to operate on Carl. If they don’t get back in time then he won’t make it, so we’re all more than a bit on edge. 

I stare at the ceiling, thinking about Carl lying there almost lifeless on that bed. He doesn’t deserve this. He should be somewhere playing cops and robbers or drawing with chalk on a sidewalk--not here. Not this life with the dead people and the broken souls. He doesn’t deserve to be shot, or bleeding, or scared shitless. No one deserves that and especially not him.

Just as I begin to doze off, there’s headlights through the front windows. I get up from my spot and stumble over, opening up the curtain. It’s Shane, driving up in a blue pickup. 

“Is it them? Are they back?” Maggie asks and I nod. I follow everyone outside and stand in the doorway. Shane gets out of the truck, handing Rick backpacks full of what I hope is the medical supplies we need. I notice Otis isn’t with him and so does everyone else. Shane makes out like he’s dead. Jesus.

“We say nothing to Patricia,” the doctor, Herschel, says. “Not till after. I need her.”

Herschel bounds back up the steps with the bags and I move out of his way. I watch as Rick and Shane speak, I’m not sure what they’re saying but the look on Shane’s face is incredibly alarming. He’s traumatized. 

They come inside eventually. I give Lori and Rick my spot on the couch--it’s right next to the room Carl’s in and I’m sure they want to be there when Herschel’s finished. I find Maggie and Glenn in the kitchen.

“I’ve known Otis since I was a kid,” she says, her tears still thick in her throat. “He’s run this farm since before my mother died.”

I sit down next to her and begin to rub her back softly. She sends me a sad smile. Glenn stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks to the fridge. “Who else?” he asks, looking at the family photos magnetted to the front. “Who’d you lose?” She sniffles a bit. I don’t know where he’s going with this. “You told me I had to make it okay somehow. That’s what you’ve been trying to do, right?” She nods. “Which ones?”

Maggie gets up and begins to list off the people she's lost--pointing at their pretty smiling pictures. And though her house is gorgeous, and her farm is completely untouched--she’s not. She’s lost people, lots of people, just like everyone else. Every single person in this world is going through the exact same thing we are. It’s pain and it’s misery but we’re all here together, trying to work through it. Despite how nasty everything is, there's a beauty in the union that has happened because of it. If there’s nothing else to be glad about--I’m glad for that.


End file.
